Harry Potter and the Dogfather
by LadyClassical
Summary: What if Sirius rescued Harry before Hogwarts and took him under his wing? What if Sirius taught Care of Magical Creatures and ended up starting a Defense Against the Dark Arts club? What if Hermione chose Harry? What if Sirius reunited with someone special he thought was gone forever...and they got a second chance? Read on to find out! (Harry POV, year 1 AU, slight Dumblebashing)
1. First Meeting

**PLEASE** **NOTE: The first few lines of this story come from JKR's book,** _ **Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone**_ **. The rest are by me.**

 *****PLEASE READ THE AUTHOR'S NOTE AT THE END OF THIS CHAPTER!** _ **PLEASE!**_ *******

…

"Where do you come from, anyway?" Harry asked.

The snake jabbed its tail at a little sign next to the glass. Harry peered at it.

Boa Constrictor, Brazil.

"Was it nice there?"

Before Harry could watch for another reaction from the snake, he heard another voice ask, "Are you speaking _Parseltongue_?"

"Am I speaking what?" Harry asked, confused, looking up at the stranger next to him. Harry could see that he was well-built and tall, but quite thin. His thick black hair went a few inches past his shoulders, and it was clean but a bit untidy, as if it had been blown about in the wind, with a red-and-gold baseball cap turned sideways. There was something sunken and hollow about his face, and his expression of alarm didn't help. He was wearing a sweatshirt that read _I Brake For Skrewts_ and a rather obnoxious pair of ugly plaid pants. Harry came up to about his waist. Overall, the look was a bit strange, but not really frightening.

"Never mind, it's nothing," said the man, sticking his hands into the pockets of his sweatshirt, glancing at the snake, which had settled its head back down and resumed sleep.

"I like your sweatshirt," said Harry, after a pause. "What are skrewts?"

"Oh, um…" The man seemed nervous, as if he hadn't been expecting anyone to ask. "They're…they're a rock band. Pretty good, too."

"Did you get it at a concert?"

"No, I just—" Midway through his reply, the man got a good look at Harry for the first time. Harry saw the gray eyes briefly graze his hairline where the lightning scar was, but the look of dawning comprehension truly hit as he took in Harry's appearance—the black hair that stuck up in back, the startlingly green eyes, the glasses…This man looked thunderstruck. Finally, brow-knitted, he asked quietly, "Have…have we met before?"

"No," Harry said nervously. But this wasn't the first person who had recognized him in public, somehow. The only difference was, most of these people mysteriously disappeared as soon as he tried to get a closer look. This man was staying put.

"Is it Harry?" the man asked breathlessly. "Harry James Potter?"

"Well, nobody ever told me what my middle name was, but my name _is_ Harry Potter…how did you—"

"Harry! Oh, _Harry!"_

Next thing you know the man had bent down and given Harry a rib-crushing hug, patting his back. After he broke the hug he put his hands on Harry's shoulders, although he still had to bend down to do it; tears were suddenly gleaming in his eyes like wet pearls. "Oh my goodness….look at you…look at you…"

"Don't remind me," Harry mumbled, feeling very self-conscious of his messy hair, baggy clothes and taped glasses.

"Last time we met you were just a baby, and now you're just the picture of your father, you've got his hair, his glasses, your hands could have been his…" The man tilted Harry's chin up slightly. "But your eyes…you've still got your mother's eyes."

"R-Really?" Harry squeaked. Now he was shocked at the mention of his parents, about whom he had not been allowed to ask questions for the past ten years. But this man was speaking very openly about them as if they had been his friends, his close friends…

"Of course," said the man. "I remember that."

"Did you…did you _know_ me when I was a baby?" Harry asked uncertainly.

"Oh yes, your aunt and uncle have probably never told you about me, seeing as we never met in person," said the man matter-of-factly. "But please, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Sirius Black. I was a good friend of your parents, and I am also your godfather."

"M-My godfather?" Harry stammered, and Sirius nodded, so Harry asked, "What are you doing here?"

"Well, I was actually coming to visit you in Surrey, maybe have tea with your aunt and uncle if that's okay," said Sirius. "But I love animals. They're great company if you're feeling a bit lonely. So I thought I'd stop by here for a bit."

"No offense, but I don't think you'd be welcome for tea," Harry told him. "Nothing personal…they just don't like strangers."

Something told Harry that Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia wouldn't approve of the way Sirius was dressed, either. The plaid pants he had on were hurting his eyes.

"Oh…I see." Sirius looked greatly disappointed as he looked around the reptile house. "Where are they, anyway? Are you lost?"

"No, they're over there." Harry pointed at the Dursleys and Piers Polkiss.

Sirius nodded. "Well, then, would you like me to buy you an ice cream or something before we part ways?"

"No sir," Harry told him. "That's nice, but you don't have to do that…"

"I know I don't _have_ to," said Sirius, "and please don't call me Sir. But seeing as you're my godson, and it's going to be your birthday in about a month anyway—"

"How did you know when my birthday is?" Harry said in shock.

"Well, if I didn't know when your birthday was, I wouldn't be a very good godfather, would I?" Sirius shrugged. "But I know you don't remember me. You couldn't, you were just a baby when we parted, after all…it was ever so hard to let you go, all alone with no parents…"

"Hang on," Harry said in a small voice, feeling a lump in his throat all of a sudden. In all of ten years, _nobody_ had remembered his birthday. Harry figured that if he hadn't been the same approximate age as his cousin Dudley, they probably wouldn't know how old he was at all. There were never even any cards…nothing. Nobody had ever offered to buy him ice cream, and _especially_ not as a birthday treat.

"What's the matter?" said Sirius.

"N-Nothing…" Harry shook his head to show that nothing was wrong.

"It was a stupid idea," said Sirius quickly. "I know it's dodgy when strangers offer you ice cream. But I just thought, if we're truly never going to see each other again…"

"I guess we could do it," Harry said. Perhaps Sirius had stories about his parents, and what he was like when he was a baby. Maybe he knew more about the car accident that killed them. The thought of hearing all this was even more appealing than the ice cream.

Instead of the zoo restaurant, though, Sirius led Harry to the zoo gift shop. Harry asked why they were going there.

"Those clothes seem a bit big on you, don't they?" said Sirius, looking at Dudley's clothes. "I mean, it'll probably be embarrassing to wear clothes that have the zoo logo all over them, but at least they'll fit. C'mon."

When they entered the Safari Gift Shop, Sirius thumbed through the merchandise while Harry watched him apprehensively.

"They're hand-me-downs, you know," Harry explained to Sirius. "My cousin's clothes. But he's, like, four times bigger than I am."

"I noticed that," said Sirius, looking past plush hanging monkeys, books about animals, and animal-themed jewelry. "I rather like this lion necklace…reminds me of my alma mater…"

Sirius grabbed the necklace, and they continued to look for clothes.

"It's not much of a birthday present, I know," Sirius continued as they reached the apparel. "Pretty sad, really."

"This is the best birthday I've _ever_ had, even if it is a bit early," Harry said sincerely, and Sirius's smile lit up his whole face, spreading right to his gray eyes.

Eventually they bought three different T-shirts, one sweatshirt, and two pairs of black track pants which, thankfully, did not have the zoo logo on them, just a picture of a lion. They had to buy the very smallest size, and Harry thought they might still be a little big on him, since he was already the scrawniest kid in his grade, but to his relief Sirius made no comments. Sirius bought a pair of track pants for himself, too, saying he liked all animals a lot, but lions were his favorites. When they got to the counter, the cashier rung everything up. Sirius was looking at the souvenir key chains.

"Sidney…Simon…Skyler…darn! They NEVER have my name!" Sirius glowered at the key chains.

"Well, Sirius is quite an unusual name," Harry said. "They just have real mainstream names."

"In my family there's a tradition of giving children celestial names," Sirius explained. "I'm the third Sirius to come along."

"That'll be forty pounds," said the cashier.

"Honestly, I don't need all this," Harry said, balking at the price.

"Nonsense," said Sirius, abandoning the key chains and pulling his wallet out of his sweatshirt pocket. "But you'll have to help me, I don't understand Mug—I mean, I'm not very good with money."

Sirius seemed flustered by the paper bills. Harry wondered why, as Sirius seemed competent otherwise, but he helped, picking out one fifty-pound note for his godfather and trying to explain why the cashier handed a ten-pound note back to them. Finally, she put all their merchandise into two bags, and they each carried one, swinging them as they walked through the sunlight to the zoo restaurant.

"I'm sure we should catch up after being separated for ten years," Sirius said. "What's been going on with you?"

"Nothing much," said Harry. "I'm going to secondary school this fall, though. Is it any different from primary school? My cousin said people are going to dunk my head in a toilet."

"Don't worry," said Sirius. "I'm sure you'll be just fine. But I don't know much about primary school, seeing as I had a private tutor until I was old enough for secondary school. So did your dad. Your mother went to Mug—I mean, public school. Trust me, though, your parents and I all went to the exact same school you'll be heading off to this fall, and we _loved_ it there."

"Stonewall High, you mean?" Harry said.

"Um, what?" Sirius looked at him, then nodded. "Oh…yeah. Stonewall High. Right."

They arrived at the zoo restaurant and went to order at the counter. Harry figured Sirius must be very rich, seeing as he didn't seem to mind throwing his money around, but asking for more gifts, even food, sounded like such a greedy thing to do after Sirius had already been so nice. Still…Harry hadn't eaten since earlier that morning at the zoo restaurant. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had made him order off the kids' menu because it was cheaper, and the cheapest item was a small bag of potato chips. Those empty carbs, plus some ice cream off a Knickerbocker Glory, were all Harry had eaten that day, and the smell of hamburgers was tantalizing.

"Hungry?" Sirius asked.

"N-No," Harry lied. "I mean, I had potato chips and a little ice cream earlier…"

"Is that all you had?" Sirius looked disapproving. "Well, you need meat if you want to grow properly. Vegetables, too…sorry about that."

"Vegetables are okay," Harry said quickly. Of course, he knew most kids his age (especially Dudley) scorned vegetables of any kind, and Uncle Vernon did too, but Harry was hungry all the time. If he ate a vegetable, usually he was glad to be getting anything to eat at all. Withholding food was basically the Dursleys' go-to punishment, aside from locking Harry in his cupboard. It had been a very long time since he had harbored any complaints about his meager food.

"Fine…I'll get you the side salad with your burger," Sirius decided. "What do you want on it? Everything?"

"Um, sure," Harry said. However, he decided to pass on the ice cream, seeing as he'd already had some that day and it would probably melt in the hot sun no matter what, so he just got a big burger with the works and a side salad, while Sirius got a burger and onion rings, some of which he shared with Harry. Biting into the fresh, juicy burger was like heaven, and the side salad was surprisingly good-tasting, too. The onion rings were just as onion rings should be—crunchy on the outside, smooth and slightly sweet on the inside. Sirius was able to catch croutons in his mouth, which made Harry laugh.

"Delicious," said Sirius. "You know, it was wonderful meeting you, Harry, seeing you again after ten years."

"Well, not that I'm ungrateful or anything, but…" Harry was finishing the last bites of his side salad. "If you truly are my godfather, why didn't you visit for the last ten years?"

"I would have," Sirius told him solemnly, "but you see, I was in prison for all those years."

"Prison!" Harry stared. "What did you do?"

"Nothing!" Sirius reassured him. "You see…it's a long story, but basically I was falsely accused of your parents' murder. I filed for an appeal every year since I was sent to prison, but it always got rejected. Finally I got one this year because of 'good behavior'. I was proven innocent…even though they still haven't caught the one who really did it…but like I said, it's a long and complicated story…Honestly, don't worry, Harry, I didn't do it."

"That's not it," said Harry, a crushing weight of disappointment sinking like a stone in his stomach. "It's just…I think you've got the wrong Harry Potter, that's all."

"Trust me, I don't." Sirius, who had already finished eating, was leaning back in his chair, surveying Harry. "The resemblance to your father is uncanny, and Lily's in there too. What makes you think I made a mistake?"

"My parents weren't murdered," Harry explained. "They died in a car accident."

"What?" Sirius's eyes were narrowed in a mixture of confusion and slight suspicion.

"Yeah," Harry said sadly. "I sometimes dream about it, although I can't imagine where that flash of green light came from…or the laugh…But I feel the pain in my forehead, which I guess was the car crash…"

Sirius looked slightly ill.

"I asked my aunt one day what happened, and she said my dad was drunk-driving—"

"What?!" Sirius exploded, standing up so angrily that he knocked his chair onto the ground. "JAMES?! DRUNK-DRIVING?! _WITH YOU AND LILY IN THE CAR?!"_

"Sorry," Harry added quickly, feeling alarmed. "Did my dad drink a lot?"

"NO!" Sirius hollered. "HE DIDN'T! THAT WAS A _LIE_ THEY TOLD YOU! YOUR PARENTS WERE _MURDERED!"_

"They were murdered?" Harry breathed. "Are you sure?"

"YES, I'M SURE!" Sirius looked beyond livid. "I'm going to go and have a word with your aunt and uncle!"

"What—no, Sirius, please don't!" Harry got up too and dashed around the table to where Sirius was standing. One of his hands was clenched around something in his sweatshirt pocket, but Harry couldn't see what it was, although he hoped it wasn't a knife or any other sort of weapon.

"Why not?!" Sirius barked.

"Because it will only mean trouble for me!" Harry told him in a rush, his heart beating fiercely against his chest. "I won't be able to leave my cupboard for a month!"

"YOU _WHAT?!"_ Sirius roared. "THEY KEEP YOU IN A _CUPBOARD?!"_

"No!" Harry knew he had said the wrong thing, and he frantically tried to backpedal, but he was feeling the beginnings of panic. "I mean, yeah they do, but it's not bad, really, they only lock me in there when I'm _really_ bad…and it doesn't matter that they withhold food because it's so bad anyway…"

Sirius didn't say anything this time, just picked up the shopping in one hand and grabbed Harry's hand forcefully with the other, pulling his godson again towards the reptile house, where they had last seen the Dursleys and Piers Polkiss. Harry was struggling madly, begging Sirius not to say anything, insisting that he would get into trouble, but it only seemed to anger Sirius further—and thus encourage him.

"Please don't, Sirius, please, I'm begging you!" Harry howled in desperation. "Don't talk to them! I'm too young to die!"

Sirius stopped, then, and leaned down next to Harry again. Harry could tell that, despite his anger, he was trying to stay calm.

"Listen to me, Harry," he said firmly. "As long as I am with you, I promise that no harm will ever come to you. Do you understand me?"

Harry nodded, because he was too afraid to speak. However, he let Sirius lead him away. Just as they were on the path to the reptile house, the Dursleys and Piers Polkiss showed up right in front of Harry. Uncle Vernon was purple-faced, always a sign that he was angry. It seemed that they had been searching for Harry.

"BOY!" he bellowed. Harry was about to scamper after his uncle, leaving Sirius behind—but then the Dursleys, Piers and Harry heard Sirius's voice.

"His name's Harry," he said, face white, in stark comparison to Uncle Vernon, who by now looked rather like a plum with a mustache.

"And what is _your_ name?" demanded Uncle Vernon nastily, as if Sirius was not worth speaking to.

"My name is Sirius Black." Sirius was scowling. "I happened to know Lily Evans. Ring a bell, Petunia?"

Aunt Petunia looked horrified at the mention of Harry's mother, but Uncle Vernon reached around impatiently for Harry's arm. "Whatever—we're going now, boy!"

"Don't you touch Harry!" shouted Sirius furiously, darting in front of Harry and shielding him.

"I'm his legal guardian!" Uncle Vernon snapped. "It's none of your business!"

"When my godson is being mistreated, it is most certainly my business!" Sirius said back. "I know what you do to him! He said you lock him in a cupboard and withhold his meals!"

"That awful boy, always making up lies!" Uncle Vernon reached around for Harry again but Sirius knocked his arm out of the way.

"I think YOU'RE the one who's spewing lies!" Sirius spat. "Harry's parents did NOT die in a car accident! They were MURDERED and you bloody well know it!"

"Ho! Murdered!" Uncle Vernon scoffed. "Drunk-driving hooligan, that's all that man was—"

"YOU DO _NOT_ INSULT JAMES POTTER IN FRONT OF _ME!"_ Sirius hollered, and what happened after that was confusing. Harry saw Sirius withdraw what looked like a drumstick out of his pocket. The stick didn't seem deadly to Harry at all, but Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia recoiled as if Sirius had brandished a knife at them. Sirius had the stick pointed right at Uncle Vernon's neck.

"Sirius, what _is_ that stick thing?" Harry asked, but Sirius ignored him.

"S-So you're a…you're a…" Uncle Vernon blubbered.

"Yes I am!" Sirius snapped. "I can do things with this you couldn't even imagine! I'm Harry's godfather too, and if you mistreat him once more, there'll be hell to pay!"

"You didn't tell him where we live!" Aunt Petunia shrieked to Harry.

"Of course he didn't, but I have my ways of knowing…" Sirius said spookily, waving his mysterious stick in her face, and she screamed.

"You're lucky I don't see Muggles as worthy adversaries when it comes to dueling," Sirius said in disgust, pocketing his stick again. "It's wrong to challenge someone who can't fight back, isn't it? But I can make exceptions. I would not recommend that you be one. Don't forget the shopping, Harry."

"The…the shopping?" Aunt Petunia quivered.

"I picked up a few things for Harry at the Safari Gift Shop," Sirius explained coldly, shoving the bags in the Dursleys' direction. "Buy him clothes that fit, why don't you? And if you try to punish him for this when you get home—as I'm sure you plan to do—I'll be there. Like I told you…we 'abnormal' people have ways of knowing things you don't."

"Oh, my," Aunt Petunia mumbled. She looked mortified, as if she might faint, whilst Uncle Vernon looked furious, but beat. Dudley and Piers were staring; Harry could tell that they understood Sirius's actions no more than he did.

"I'll see you soon, okay?" Sirius reassured Harry, bending down and hugging him again. "Don't worry. I've got your back, Prongslet."

"What?"

"My nickname for you, when you were a baby," said Sirius, then, to the Dursleys, "Remember what I said."

It was confusing. Harry didn't understand why Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia seemed so afraid of Sirius and his stick thing. It seemed as if they had taken his threats to heart, however. Before they all got in the car, Aunt Petunia said to Harry, "Would you like to ride in the front seat for a change…darling?"

Harry happily obliged.

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE! PLEASE READ, THIS IS VERY IMPORTANT! While I greatly appreciate detailed reviews, please do NOT post reviews that are spoilers, okay? What if the book** _ **Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince**_ **had just come out, and you hadn't read it yet, and the NYT printed a review saying, "We were all so shocked when Snape killed Dumbledore!" I mean, you can't go and do that, can you? It's not fair to the readers who haven't read the story yet and are looking at the reviews to see if it's worth checking out. Don't ruin the story for them, I beg of you. Thank you very much.**


	2. You're A Wizard, Harry

Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had decided to move Harry into Dudley's second room and out of his cupboard after getting their telling-off from Sirius. They didn't want to deal with another wizard, this time one who was very well aware of his powers and able to use them. They weren't treating Harry like a prince, exactly, but it seemed that they were trying to make a better effort, albeit not out of any actual concern for Harry.

But there was someone in the house who was very unhappy about this. Dudley was used to being the one who was treated like a prince while Harry got treated like dirt. Even though his parents still put him first, he was jealous that Harry was now being treated like a human being.

By that Wednesday, he had reached a boiling point. His gang elected to publicly humiliate Harry at recess time, because Dudley figured that if he picked on Harry at _school_ , Harry's godfather would never know, and he would be safe. Worse than that, both of Harry's new track pants were in the wash, so all he had to wear were oversized jeans again, and he'd tripped over them, causing everyone to laugh meanly.

"And you're going to tell Mum you fell off the swings or something," said Dudley, kicking Harry once more for good measure, leaving his cousin to peel himself up off the ground.

…

Dudley and Harry got off the bus that day with Harry feeling awful. His glasses were broken, and he knew he would have to tape them up again. He was just about to go up to his room and get started on his homework when he noticed who was sitting there waiting for him at the kitchen table.

"Sirius?" said Harry in disbelief.

"I thought I'd come by and visit today, if you don't mind," said Sirius, who had been looking happy at first, but when he saw Harry his face turned to concern. "What on Earth happened to you?"

Harry just shrugged and sat down at the table.

"Listen…" said Sirius. "Your dad's mother had the best recipe for hot chocolate. I bet I can figure it out and make us some if you could just show me where your coffeemaker is."

Harry told Sirius what he needed to know, then waited at the kitchen table. He wasn't sure if Sirius knew exactly what he was doing, but he appreciated the effort all the same. The hot chocolate was done soon enough, and Harry blew on it for a few minutes before he drank it so he wouldn't scorch his tongue. Sirius added whipped cream to both and drank his with satisfaction.

"Turned out better than I thought," Sirius said.

Harry drank his hot chocolate, and it did taste good. The two of them drank in silence for a minute, Sirius looking peaceful. Harry didn't really know how to deal with Sirius. Honestly, he almost reminded Harry of…of a _parent_ , or at least an adult who showed genuine concern for him but wasn't a teacher or school counselor. Harry knew teachers were nice to him because it was part of their job, but Sirius was choosing to be nice of his own accord—and Harry couldn't think what he had done to deserve that.

"Why are you doing this?" Harry blurted.

"Doing what?" said Sirius.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" Harry clarified. "I mean, I know you knew me when I was a baby, but I don't remember you at all—no offense."

"I'm being nice to you because I love you, just as much as I always have," said Sirius. "Since when does it matter if you remember me or not?"

"Because I didn't…" It was just so hard to explain to Sirius, and for Harry to understand. "I'm not special in any way. I didn't do anything nice for _you_. I didn't earn it—"

"Love isn't something that should have to be earned," Sirius told him. "I love you for being Harry. Just Harry."

By now, Harry didn't have any appetite for hot chocolate at all. Instead he was just sitting at the table with his chin in his hands, trying to fight back the awful feeling of crying. True, it had been a long time since he had cried. But then, it had been an even longer time since anyone had ever told him they loved him.

"Love is unconditional," Sirius continued thoughtfully, putting his arm around Harry, who leaned into him. "I can tell these people you live with convinced you that you aren't worthy of love at all—conditional or otherwise. But you _are_. I just wish I could make you see that."

"I don't have anyone at school," Harry confessed. "Nobody likes me there."

"Well, when I was your age I didn't have any real friends either," Sirius told him gently. "You know that? It wasn't until I met your father that I actually enjoyed any aspect of my life. Everyone thought we had everything we wanted, everything…but I don't think my family ever had anything valuable at all."

"What was your family like?" Harry asked.

"Influential." Sirius sighed. "Rich. Stuck-up. You know the type. My parents were convinced that being a member of our family made you practically royalty. But I guess I never felt like I was a part of that family. It was a cold, dark, gloomy place to live. No love, no laughter, not really anyway. Just arranged playdates with the children of other stuck-up Sacred 28 families. I thought I would be stuck that way forever. But then when I went to school I had great friends for the first time…including your father. Even though I came from this snobby, stuck-up family, he gave me a chance anyway, realized I was different. He rescued me from the dismal world I'd have lived in otherwise. When I ran away from home at sixteen he was kind enough to take me in. Why such a good man had to die so early, I'll never know."

"Do you…do you still miss him?" said Harry quietly.

"Every day," said Sirius softly. "Losing James and Lily…that was the worst thing that's ever happened to me. And then letting them take you away…Letting go of you was the hardest thing I've ever had to do. If I had to do it all over again, I'd fight tooth and nail to keep them from taking you away from me."

"It sounds better than living here," Harry agreed.

Sirius wiped his wet eyes with the back of his hand and ruffled Harry's hair. "You really do look like him, you know…and I'm sure you'll become just as talented of a wizard…"

"Of a what?!" said Harry, wondering if he'd misheard, or if this was some sort of code word. However, Sirius suddenly looked alarmed.

"Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!" he repeated, slapping himself in the forehead.

"Don't do that," said Harry. "What were you talking about?"

"Okay. I wasn't supposed to tell you this until your eleventh birthday, but considering the cat's out of the bag, and I was of the opinion that they should have kept you in the know from the very start…" Sirius sighed. "First I have a question for you. Has anything ever happened to you that you haven't been able to explain or understand?"

"Yeah, loads of stuff," Harry admitted.

"Like what?"

"Well, here's one," said Harry. "Whenever I come back from the barber I look like I haven't been—my hair just kind of grows like that" (Sirius smiled fondly) "and Aunt Petunia nearly shaved me bald. I was really dreading going to school that next day, but when I woke up it had all grown back within the night. And one time I didn't want to wear a really ugly old sweater of Dudley's, so it shrunk until it was too small for me…and I was running away from my cousin chasing me and somehow I got transported all the way to the top of the school building…oh, and there was that time I turned my teacher's wig blue—"

"All right, that's quite enough," said Sirius, laughing. "Now listen. I come from somewhere where that sort of thing is perfectly normal, and if you join us, you can learn how to control it…and even use it to your advantage."

"Where is it normal for your hair to grow back overnight?" said Harry.

"Those prats," Sirius sighed. "I _told_ them they should've raised you knowing about all this stuff rather than heaping it on you all at once when you turn eleven, _told_ them you should've had an outlet to our world…But would they listen? NO, of course not! And what's there to make you take me at my word? 'Until he is ready', I ask you…"

"Sirius?" said Harry.

"Oh…sorry," said Sirius. "Do you want the short answer, or the long answer?"

"Short?"

"This is probably going to sound silly, but…" Sirius put his hand on Harry shoulder. "If we had told you from the start, like _I_ wanted, you would already know that…that you're a wizard."

"I'm a _what?"_

"Like I said…" Sirius put his elbows on the table and set his chin in his hands. "All that weird stuff you've been able to do? That's _magic_. You were born with the ability to do magic, as were your parents James and Lily. And there's a school you can go to, the same school your parents went to, the same one _I_ went to, where you can learn to control your powers. About a month from now, you'll be getting a school letter, asking you if you want to attend."

"Of course I want to attend!" Harry jumped up. "Does that mean I don't have to go to Stonewall?"

"That's your decision, but I'd recommend going to the magic school." Sirius laughed and got to his feet again too.

"So… _you_ can do magic too?" asked Harry curiously. "Do you mind showing me some?"

Sirius seemed a bit thoughtful, as if thinking of the most impressive spell he could. Finally, he pulled out what Harry realized must be a wand and yelled, " _Expecto Patronum!"_

To Harry's delight, out of Sirius's wand shot what looked like a gigantic, silvery ghost of a dog—but it seemed solid. Perhaps it was made out of energy. It ran around the kitchen a few times, jumped up on its hind legs with its paws on Harry's shoulders (each paw was bigger than Harry's hand spread out) then flickered and died.

"That…what _was_ that?" Harry asked in awe.

"It was a Patronus," said Sirius. "It's sort of like a guardian, I guess. Anyway, there you are—that's magic. You won't be doing complicated spells like that for a long time, but there's lots you will be doing soon. Maybe you'll even invent one of your own—you can do that, you know. It was something your father and I liked to do, make up our own spells."

"Do you really think I'm going to be a talented wizard?" Harry asked.

"I don't see why you wouldn't be," said Sirius. "But listen…I know this is all very exciting, but there's something else you need to know too."

"I'm listening," said Harry.

"Well, most witches and wizards use magic for good," Sirius began, "but it's also possible to use it for terrible evil. You understand that, don't you?"

Harry nodded.

"Well, that's how your parents were murdered," said Sirius soberly. "With what we call Dark magic. Evil magic. The one who murdered them was a wizard who went much too far with the Dark Arts. He messed with life and death itself, which is just about the Darkest, most horrible magic you can do. He slaughtered and tortured people. Everyone was so afraid. Our world was collapsing. But then one night, when you were fifteen months old, something very strange happened. Something that made you famous in our world—the Wizarding world, that is."

Hanging on Sirius's every word, Harry whispered, "W-What?"

"Famous, Harry, famous," said Sirius. "This wizard—Voldemort, that was his name—well, I'm afraid he killed your parents that night. But then he turned his wand on you, and he said the incantation for the curse that kills people, and instead of killing you…it bounced off you and hit him instead. Like I said, one of Voldemort's goals was to conquer death, and I think he got far enough that he didn't actually die. It's not like he _looked_ human. So nobody knows where he went or exactly what happened. All we knew was that his reign of terror had come to an end."

Sirius pointed at the scar on Harry's forehead. "That's where the curse hit you. I'm afraid a lot of people are going to be staring at it."

"That's actually the only thing I like about my appearance," Harry admitted.

"Don't be silly," said Sirius. "You've got Lily's beautiful eyes, and you got that hair from James. His glasses were more square than round, and much bigger—very seventies—but you inherited your bad eyesight from him, too."

"I wish I could see pictures of them," said Harry ruefully.

"I'm sure we can find some," Sirius told him confidently. "At your grandparents' house, maybe, or at the old house where I grew up. Or maybe Dumbledore has something…I don't know."

"Dumbledore?"

"Oh yes, he's the Headmaster of the magic school," Sirius explained. "It's called Hogwarts, by the way. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Like I said, your school letter should be coming in about a month, and in September, that's when the school train leaves—"

"It's a boarding school?" Harry said hopefully.

"Yes." Sirius grinned. "No Muggles for ten months."

"Muggles?"

"It's what we call people who can't do magic, like your aunt, uncle and cousin," Sirius explained. "But yeah, you go away to Hogwarts and back on the school train, and the school year is ten months long. You have the fall, spring and summer terms, and it's your choice of whether you want to go home for Christmas or not…I guess you won't."

"That sounds great," said Harry. "Too bad I have to wait so long…"

"I know, but in the meantime," Sirius continued, "I was thinking I might go clothes shopping with you."

"What?"

"Well, I know I bought you clothes at the zoo, but that really wasn't enough," Sirius explained. "How about this Saturday?"

"I-I don't know," Harry said uncertainly.

"If your parents were still alive, they would have bought you clothes that fit, I guarantee you," Sirius said firmly. "I will do the same. Besides, both my parents are dead too, and they left me a huge inheritance. I got a hefty wad of compensation for being falsely locked up in Azkaban, too. So it's not like I don't have the money for it."

"Well…okay." Harry was happy at the thought of always having clothes that fit. "Thanks, Sirius."


	3. Shopping

Since Harry and Sirius would be buying Muggle clothes, they went to a Muggle clothing store. It was called House of Fraser, and it was in London. Sirius had a whole lot of what he called "Muggle money", even though Harry explained that there were Muggles all over the world and each nationality used a different sort of money, but Sirius insisted that you didn't really _need_ to understand Muggle money in the Wizarding world. He showed Harry some of the Wizarding money he had on him—gold, silver and bronze.

When they walked inside on the first floor, the first stop was the men's department. Harry wandered away from Sirius and looked at the things that were for sale. They didn't look like anything he would wear to school, or anything that he thought could fit him. There was an entire wall devoted to jeans, which was intimidating, and the sizing didn't seem to make much sense. How could you be a size 33 and 34 at the same time? Harry picked up the smallest size and realized they were still far too big. They had a problem here, most definitely…

"Hey, you," said Sirius. "What are you up to?"

"Okay, which one of my parents was a goblin?" Harry asked dryly.

"Neither," said Sirius, discreetly folding the jeans back up again with his wand and placing them back on the shelf. "But we really do need to get you to the boys' department."

"Oh…right." Harry let Sirius grab his hand, and they walked past some other departments on the first floor—past jewelry, women's, exercise, etc., and they talked all along the way.

"Besides your everyday Muggle clothes, we'll probably need to get you some nicer clothes to wear under your school robes," Sirius was saying.

"School robes?"

"Wizards' robes," Sirius explained. "I'm wearing Muggle clothes today instead of robes like I usually wear—pretty good, right?"

Sirius was wearing bright neon-green pants and a plaid golfing shirt.

"Great," Harry lied, then he asked, "Does everyone in the Wizarding world wear robes?"

"No, it's more of a generational thing, I think," said Sirius thoughtfully. "Almost everyone my age wears them, yes, and we wore them when we were younger. But nowadays kids your age wear Muggle clothes during the summer holidays and on the weekends. Maybe it's because of all the new Muggle protection laws, I don't know. But yeah…it's not so uncommon to see a witch or wizard your age wearing ordinary Muggle clothes."

"Where do you get robes?"

"You can custom-order them, or you can get them off the rack," said Sirius. "My mother always custom-ordered the ones for my brother and me."

"That was nice of her," said Harry.

"Yes, well, it _sounds_ like a nice gesture," said Sirius darkly. "But it was really just another way for her to show off how much gold we had. You see, custom-made robes aren't really much different from off-the-rack robes, but they're much more expensive. Every year my mother would have someone take my brother's measurements and my own—arms, waist, legs, etc.—and then have some robe-maker hand-make them for us. Then we'd have to wear them all the time, just in case someone forgot how luxurious and perfect our lives were. But I didn't like them, because they were never in colors I liked and they always had the Black family crest and motto embroidered in the back. She custom-ordered my school robes right before my first year, but every time I needed new robes after that I always got them with James, off-the-rack, even though it made my mother furious."

"I guess he was a bad influence," Harry commented, grinning, and Sirius nodded.

They walked past the girls' clothing, and the boys' clothing was right after it.

"Do you know what your sizes even are?" Sirius asked.

"No," Harry admitted, feeling embarrassed.

"Well, I guess you wouldn't, if all you got were his hand-me-downs," said Sirius pensively. "Honestly, that cousin of yours must have weighed thirty pounds at his very birth."

Sirius looked around to make sure nobody was watching, then Harry gaped as he used his wand to make measuring tape appear out of thin air. He snapped his fingers and watched idly as it started to take Harry's measurements on its own. Harry wasn't sure if Sirius was supposed to be using his powers in a Muggle department store, but since he was eager to see more magic, he didn't mention it.

"Can I really learn spells like this at the magic school?" Harry asked.

"Hogwarts?" said Sirius. "Yes. But you'll need more training first. They'll start you off with simple stuff like turning needles into toothpicks or making things float…"

Harry didn't think it would be simple at all to turn a needle into a toothpick. But hadn't Sirius grown up in a wizard family? This must seem as normal to him as ice cream on a hot day. Dressing like a Muggle, though, he _definitely_ needed to work on that.

Sirius and Harry ended up buying a lot of clothes, mostly jeans and T-shirts, but also some sweaters, socks (new socks that were not grubby and did not belong to Uncle Vernon), and a new pair of pajamas. Sirius took Harry's glasses from him, made a sort of derisive noise in his throat, and repaired them brilliantly with a tap of his wand, the now-unnecessary tape fluttering to the department store's smooth floor. Finally they found Harry a dress shirt and some slacks to wear under his school robes. Not only had Harry never worn jeans that fit in his life, he had most certainly never worn slacks. Harry walked out of the dressing room stall, wearing his dress clothes and found Sirius waiting outside, standing by the big mirror.

"You see?" said Sirius. "Doesn't that look better?"

"Yes," said Harry, but something was still bothering him. "All this sizing made me realize…I'm scrawnier than I thought. I'm probably going to be that way forever."

"I don't think so," Sirius replied, hands in his pockets, leaning against the wall. "James was tall, Lily was about average and you were quite a healthy-sized baby. But you were horribly malnourished for the past ten years—weren't you?"

"Possibly," Harry agreed glumly.

"Well, not being fed properly can stunt your growth, you see. But luckily for you, the food is always plentiful at Hogwarts, and they have big feasts on special occasions, so you won't be going hungry there," said Sirius serenely. "And keep in mind, puberty can do great things."

"Like _what_?"

"Well, all sorts, but I was referring to your height," said Sirius. "That's when you'll start to wonder every year why your robes don't fit you anymore. Just so long as you start to eat enough, or your growth will be permanently stunted."

"Oh…great," said Harry, trying not to sound anxious, but merely excited that the other kids would most likely soon have yet another excuse to pick on him. In the most casual tone of voice he could muster, he added, "I'll probably be one of those people who looks like a freak until they graduate secondary school, though."

"Not if the fact that you look so much like your dad is any indication," said Sirius in interest, raising one eyebrow. "I mean to say, _he_ didn't look like a freak. Everything came easy for him…Well, except one thing."

"What's that?" asked Harry.

Sirius smirked. "Your mother."

Harry was still staring at himself, transfixed, in the mirror. Truth was, it didn't _look_ like him. Instead of old, oversized jeans and a T-shirt he was wearing a dress shirt and slacks, both of which fit perfectly and made him look quite sharp. Then there were his good-as-new glasses. Those made a surprising difference. But still, the worried look on his face was all the same.

"What's the matter?" Sirius asked.

"It's just…I don't think I'm going to be a good wizard," Harry told him. "I didn't even know I was one. Look at all the stuff you do. I'm never going to be able to do any of that."

"There are lots of Hogwarts students who come to school not knowing they were witches and wizards," Sirius said patiently. "That includes your mother. Her side of the family didn't have a drop of magical blood in their veins, and she was a very powerful witch."

"What if I'm the worst in the class?"

"Both of your parents were incredibly gifted," said Sirius. "I don't see how that could happen. Besides, there's Quidditch, too. I'm sure you'll be great at Quidditch."

"I don't even know what that _is_."

Sirius was then off explaining the rules of Quidditch to Harry, describing the details of the game with relish, and ending on the fact that James had been a Quidditch-cup-winning Chaser.

"There's no way you'll be a total fail at Quidditch, at least," said Sirius confidently.

Harry thought Quidditch was the most exciting part of the Wizarding world Sirius had told him about so far. Of course, he had heard in Muggle fairy tales about witches and wizards flying on broomsticks, but for _sports_? That was a new one. It sounded dangerous, too, but in an interesting way. Certainly more interesting than any Muggle sport. Harry knew his father had been a Chaser, but the position that sounded most intriguing to him was Seeker.

Quidditch was driven out of Harry's mind for a short time as he convinced Sirius to buy some new clothes of his own. Harry tried not to let on that Sirius didn't seem to understand Muggle clothing. Instead he just pretended he wanted to show Sirius the latest fashions.

"I spend more time in the Muggle world," Harry said delicately. "This is what's in right now. I _love_ your outfit, but I think you'd look great in this…"

"Thanks. I do look good in anything, don't I?" said Sirius, and he bought his Muggle clothing too.

After everything was paid for, Sirius and Harry went to eat at a nearby restaurant that sold pizza. Harry wanted to know more about the Wizarding world, but Sirius made it quite clear that he was curious about Harry's world, too.

"What's it like to go to Muggle school?" he asked keenly.

"Well, we do math, science, reading, stuff like that." Harry shrugged, thinking of all the things he did in Muggle school. "We have art class, and music, and recess, where we can run around outside and blow off our steam…"

"Lucky," grumbled Sirius.

"What?"

"I said, you're lucky," Sirius repeated.

"Lucky to have recess?" Harry asked. "Didn't you get to run around outside when you were younger?"

"Run around in the street like some filthy, common Muggle child?" Sirius scoffed sarcastically. "Get my silk and linen robes dirty? Mess up my hair? Wander into a neighborhood and perhaps—gasp—make a _friend_? I think not! Why, my mother would have died of shame. No, when Regulus and I weren't in lessons we were usually at social gatherings, stuck inside. It was very boring. We were never allowed to play outside. I hated it so much…For a long time I wondered what on Earth was the matter with me—our family had everything we could possibly want, and yet I was so miserable every day."

"Well…have you ever thought that it was your family that had the problem, and not you?" Harry said slowly.

"Your father asked me the very same question," Sirius told him fondly. "I agreed with him—and you. I'm just not my parents' son and that's that. But I've talked too much about myself, you were telling me about your life…"

"No, no," said Harry. "I know you didn't like your family much, but they were still an old Wizarding family. You must have seen all sorts of magic growing up."

"Oh, I saw magic growing up, all right," said Sirius darkly. "But it's certainly not any sort of magic they'll teach you at Hogwarts, or that you should be doing. I don't know why my parents thought it was acceptable to openly practice the Dark Arts with their young children looking on, but apparently it wasn't an issue for them."

Harry had a sudden mental image of a baby version of Sirius, standing up in a crib, watching two Dark wizards from a corner in a drawing room.

"You don't have to worry," said Harry reassuringly as Sirius signaled for the bill. "I'll _never_ get into the Dark Arts."

 **NEXT UP: The Dursleys are more fearful of Sirius than ever. But they are also getting angry. Meanwhile, Sirius finds a ten-year-old legal document that may turn Harry's whole life around…that is, if a certain headmaster doesn't catch wind of it!**


	4. Sirius's Lesson

When Harry and Sirius returned to #4 Privet Drive, they were weighed down with shopping bags. They had taken up a lot of room on the Underground, which they had taken to House of Fraser and back. When they were in the living room, Aunt Petunia was cooking in the kitchen. She gave Sirius a nasty glare.

"I don't think she wants you staying for dinner," Harry whispered.

"It's okay," said Sirius. "I will another time."

"Thanks for all this stuff," said Harry, seating himself on the couch. Sirius sat next to him, and sensed that something wasn't quite right.

"What's the matter, Prongslet?" he asked.

"Prongslet?"

"My nickname for James was Prongs, so naturally, our nickname for you was Prongslet," Sirius explained, then paused. "But what's the problem?"

"Well, I really appreciate all of this, but I don't think it will make much of a difference at school," said Harry sadly. "New clothes won't buy new friends."

"You're right," said Sirius, standing up. "They won't. But I'll tell you what does—and I would know, seeing as your father and I were very popular ourselves."

"What?" said Harry glumly, staring up at him.

"Self-confidence," said Sirius wisely, taking Harry's hand and pulling him to a standing position. "If there's anything that makes a bloke popular, it's self-confidence."

"But I don't have any self-confidence," said Harry. "So what use is that?"

"Well, at first you might have to pretend a bit," Sirius replied, then sat down on the couch. "C'mon, show me how you walk."

"What?"

Sirius gestured to the door to the kitchen. "Just walk across the living room, past the TV, there."

"Well…okay." Harry began to walk the length of the living room, although he didn't understand why, but he hadn't even gotten halfway across before Sirius stopped him.

"Now what sort of walk is that?" Sirius demanded, getting up and walking over to him. "You can't have that shuffling sort of walk where you look down at the ground, can you? Part of having self-confidence is all about how you hold yourself."

Sirius bent down and placed one thin but strong hand underneath Harry's chin and tilted it upwards; the other pressed flat against Harry's back and straightened it, as though Harry was wearing an invisible spine brace.

"Stand up straight," said Sirius, "and don't look down at the ground. Now, walk again—this time the way I do."

Harry watched Sirius walk across the room with a gait he had obviously perfected, yet looked effortless—a sort of hip-swaggering strut, proud and carefree. When he was done walking he turned around, tossed his hair out of his eyes, winked and leaned against the wall. Harry was in awe.

"See?" said Sirius. "Loads of self-confidence…yet approachable."

"I can't do that," said Harry.

"Come on, nobody's looking," said Sirius. "Not even I could learn it overnight."

"Really, I can't," Harry insisted. He was keeping his chin and the air and his back straight, but he wasn't used to it. Most of the time he liked to fly below the radar.

"Harry, let me ask you something," said Sirius solemnly. "Are you ashamed of who you are?"

"Um—"

"No," said Sirius dramatically, putting his hand on Harry's shoulder. "You're _not_. You're _proud_ of who you are! You're Harry Potter! The boy who conquered the Dark Lord!"

"But I don't remember—"

"For goodness sake, do you think people care if you _remember_ it?" said Sirius. "They don't care if you defeated him by throwing your pacifier at him! The point is, you are an amazing person, with amazing talents! Your own dear mother told me it was as if you were born on a broomstick, and if there's one thing that your fellow Hogwarts students will be crazy about, it's Quidditch."

"You think I'll be good at flying?" said Harry doubtfully.

"I'm sure of it," said Sirius. "It's in your blood. Now—throw off that weight you've got on your back and don't walk, _strut_."

Harry felt incredibly silly at first, but he did his best to imitate Sirius's swag. Sirius insisted on doing it over and over again, until Harry had actually gotten a lot better, and, indeed, felt better about who he was.

"Wonderful! Perfect!" Sirius bent down and hugged Harry. "You'll do all right at Hogwarts."

"Of course I will!" said Harry confidently, collapsing back onto the couch, beaming. "Listen, speaking of Hogwarts…do you know if my parents, well, left anything for me?"

"You mean their Last Will and Testament?" Sirius looked thoughtful.

"Well, I was talking about cash, but that too," said Harry.

"I'm sure James left you all his gold," Sirius replied. "Well, technically it's your grandparents' gold—James didn't work; he was an heir, like me, so he was set for life. But to be honest, even though I'm sure you got all of James's inheritance—over half a million, the way I hear it—"

"In pounds?"

"No, over half a million Galleons," Sirius clarified. "Anyway, like I said, I'm sure you have access to your parents' vault, but I don't think anyone knows the details of the estate itself, exactly. It's in their safe deposit box at Gringotts. But we can't go today. It's nearly three on a Saturday afternoon and you know how early banks close on weekends…"

"And we can't go tomorrow, since banks are closed on Sundays," Harry added.

"But we could go Monday after your school is over," said Sirius. "Gringotts doesn't close until five-thirty on weekdays. We could get from here to London in no time at all if we took my motorcycle."

"I had a dream about a flying motorcycle," said Harry, remembering.

"Harry," said Sirius, grinning, "that wasn't a dream."

…

 **What's in the Potters' safe deposit box? Will Harry's self-confidence last? Find out in the next installment, coming soon!**

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks to everyone who faved, followed, and especially reviewed! As JKR said herself, it's only a story if someone wants to read it. Your encouragement makes me so inspired to write the story so keep it coming!**


	5. The Journey to London

Sirius wasn't over on Sunday, so Harry spent most of his time in the backyard, strutting around, trying to imitate Sirius's walk. It had been embarrassing to do at first, but as he grew more confident it became much easier. He did it with his backpack slung over his back, preparing himself for school the next day. True, he might have to pretend he had self-confidence for a bit, but perhaps pretend self-confidence would soon turn into the real thing.

Harry was still nervous for school the next day. But he'd washed his hair and face (luckily he had always had very clear skin), brushed his teeth, cleaned his glasses, and he was wearing his favorite brand-new jeans and T-shirt. Of course he hadn't been able to comb his hair, but he didn't feel insecure about that anymore, because he knew his dad's hair had been the exact same way. Before he met Sirius, he didn't know anything about his parents; now he could learn everything.

Most kids were gaping at him when he walked by, trying to look as if he owned the bus. As long as he kept reminding himself that he was probably the only kid on the bus who had singlehandedly defeated the most feared Dark wizard in a century, he could keep doing it…Nobody had to know he was still sort of pretending.

"Harry Potter? Is that you?" one girl near the front seat blurted out, as if she couldn't help herself.

"The one and only," he said, dramatically lowering his glasses and winking.

Sitting on the bus was something Harry normally dreaded, because he thought it was humiliating to sit alone every day (he had the same problems at lunch and recess). But Sirius was convinced that it was only humiliating if you let it be, so Harry sat into a vacant bus seat as nonchalantly as he could, and crossed his legs, so everyone could see his expensive new denim. _Good thing I have an obscenely rich godfather_ , he thought.

Dudley was in the back of the bus; he and his friends always rode in the back, because then they were farthest away from the bus driver and could get away with being more disruptive. Harry was sitting very near the front. This seemed to give some of the kids courage, and they decided to talk to him.

"Harry, I like your new jeans," said a boy named Gene Weinergarter. "Dark wash is very fashionable."

"Thank you, Gene," said Harry. "I got them at House of Fraser. It's in London."

"And your brand-new glasses!" added a girl named Rosie Daniels.

Harry smiled. Sirius had made it quite clear that his classmates weren't to know he was a wizard, so only he knew how his glasses had gotten fixed. But he thanked Rosie too, anyway.

The rest of the day was the best day Harry had ever had at school. His mood consistently improved as the hours went by. Dudley and his gang were staring at him in shock, as if he'd grown an extra head. Yes, the fixed glasses and properly-fitting clothes made a big difference. But what made people notice Harry now, and want to talk to him, was the way he was talking, the way he held himself, the way he walked, and how he did his best to smile at everyone.

Harry was prepared to eat alone at lunch. But to his surprise, as he walked into the lunchroom, carrying his big tray full of cafeteria food, he spotted Gene waving from a table already packed with other kids. In fact, he only was able to squeeze in because he was so skinny. When Dudley wasn't around, Harry was surprised at how friendly the other fifth-graders were to him.

Recess was when Harry thought the kids would scatter. That was when some of the shock seemed to have worn off, and Dudley's gang were making their way over. Harry tried to maintain his self-confidence as best he could, but it was getting harder. Not all the kids were coming to his rescue; that would be too much to ask of them…

"Watch out!" said Gene suddenly, appearing on Harry's left side. "If you're going to slam Harry's head into the pavement, you'll have to slam mine too!"

"Okay," said Piers nastily, edging closer to them.

"Don't forget me!" said Rosie, running to stand on Harry's other side. Harry felt nervous for her; he knew Dudley wouldn't think twice about hitting a girl.

"It's like three for the price of one," said Dudley thickly to his friends, and they laughed meanly.

Two more kids joined behind Harry, Rosie and Gene, but it was no use. Dudley was like a bowling ball, and they were like the pins. Harry thought it was all over—he'd be responsible for his classmates getting hurt, just as they had come to defend him. But that was when they were distracted by the roar of an engine that seemed to come out of nowhere…

When the kids all saw the largest motorcycle they had ever seen parked on the edge of the schoolyard, they all got very distracted, even Dudley. It was universally agreed upon that motorcycles were cool, and here was one right among the playground equipment! Harry rushed over with them, curious as to what was going on, but he was shocked to see none other than Sirius, shaking his long black hair out of his eyes, grinning.

"Ah, there's Harry," he said. He was wearing a leather jacket, an old white T-shirt, one of the new pairs of jeans he'd gotten yesterday at House of Fraser, and leather boots—or were they leather? They didn't look like leather…they looked almost like dragon hide, only dragons weren't real…or were they? After all, up until about a week ago, Harry hadn't thought magic was real, either, and look at what he'd found out. Sirius had motorcycle gloves and sunglasses, and he took them off and stuck them in his pockets as he parked the motorcycle. Harry noticed that its license plate read "PDFOOT".

"Who are you?" Rosie asked breathlessly.

"My name is Sirius Black," said Sirius kindly. "I'm Harry Potter's godfather."

"Are you part of a motorcycle gang?" asked Gene, pushing his way to the front.

"No, it's just me and this baby," said Sirius, patting the motorcycle. "Ride to live, live to ride."

All the kids were staring in awe.

"Harry," said a boy named Bob Macenzy, "your godfather is cool!"

"I just thought I'd visit you around your recess time," said Sirius casually. "You must be Harry's friends, then?"

"Yes!" said all the kids…except Dudley's gang. Of course they looked angry, but Dudley also looked fearful. If his parents were afraid of Sirius, he thought he should be, too. And when Dudley's gang sensed fear from their leader, they didn't know what to do.

"Don't do anything," Dudley whispered to them. "Don't do anything unless I tell you to…"

Sirius left once recess was over. The kids all asked Harry to tell them about Sirius, and he gladly did (except the part about his being a wizard, obviously). By the end of the school day he was in such high spirits that he almost didn't want to leave school. He was still getting better at the walk Sirius had showed him, too.

After all the kids were let out, Harry saw Sirius waiting for him, perched on the motorcycle and waving. Most kids said bye to Harry as they left. Harry ran towards Sirius.

"I didn't know you owned a motorcycle, Sirius!" he gasped. "Can you really ride that thing?"

"I sure can. You'll find I'm full of surprises," said Sirius smoothly. "And this motorcycle has a little secret—it _flies_."

"It flies? But don't Muggles see—"

"It's got something called an Invisibility Booster," Sirius explained. "That gets us into the air, then we fly above the clouds."

"You're…you're going to _fly_ me to London?" Harry was suddenly feeling nervous; he didn't know if flying would be scary. It probably wouldn't be fun.

"It's all right," said Sirius. "Countless girls have ridden on the back of this thing, after all, and your father did all the time. Just hold onto me and don't let go. By the way…I got you a motorcycle jacket, too."

The black leather jacket looked like Sirius's, only in Harry's size.

"Oh…um, thanks." Harry put on the jacket, then reluctantly climbed onto the back of the motorcycle and held onto Sirius's waist with a death grip. The engine turned over. They were about to start flying…Harry bit his lip.

"Hang on!" Sirius yelled, pressing the Invisibility Booster, and they took off, straight up into the air. Harry would have screamed, but the sudden gust of wind took his breath away. Up, up, up they flew, and Harry was surprised…Flying wasn't scary at all! It was _wonderful!_ It gave him the most amazing soaring sensation in his stomach, and he felt as if he had left all his worries on the ground. He looked down, and the school was quickly disappearing as they left Surrey behind.

Sirius flew the motorcycle high enough that they burst through the roof of clouds, then turned off the Invisibility Booster. Every so often he dipped under the clouds to check that they were going in the right direction, but other than that, it was just Harry, Sirius, the bike, and the big blue sky.

"All right back there, Prongslet?" Sirius called.

"Faster!" Harry yelled in response.

"Well, considering there's no speed limit in the air…"

Sirius gunned it, and they shot forward like a bullet, Harry cheering as the wind blew his hair straight back from his face, Sirius laughing and speeding along. Harry felt as if his whole life had been leading up to this moment. Being in the air was infinitely better than being on the ground, he knew, and he never wanted this ride to end…but of course it did. Too soon Harry recognized the rooftops and spiraling towers of London.

"Prepare for descent!" Sirius hollered, switching the Invisibility Booster back on. Harry felt another lurch in his stomach as they sped downwards with a roar. Harry clung tight to Sirius's waist as down they went, his hair flying straight up in the wind.

"This is amazing!" Harry shouted as they got closer to the ground. "The only way to travel!"

"Touchdown!" said Sirius triumphantly as the wheels of the motorbike touched the pavement once more with a few bumps. They were in a back alley in downtown London. Sirius turned off the Invisibility Booster, then parked the bike, sticking the keys in his pocket. Except for when they went to House of Fraser, Harry had never been to London before. But Harry saw a lot more of London this time, and it was fascinating.

"This is a busy street, so don't let go of my hand," Sirius instructed, noting the place where he'd parked his bike.

Harry nodded, and Sirius pulled him along. In a few minutes, they found themselves outside a small, quite unremarkable pub, sandwiched in between a bookstore and a record shop. If Sirius hadn't pointed it out, Harry wouldn't have noticed it. In fact, he had a funny feeling that the Muggles couldn't see it at all.

"Here we are," said Sirius. "The Leaky Cauldron. It's a famous place."

"Famous?" Harry repeated; he was about to ask why when Sirius bent down in front of him and put his hands on his shoulders.

"Now, listen, Harry," he said, gently but firmly. "We need to get a few things straight before you go in there."

"W-What?" Harry didn't like the sound of that. Usually "get a few things straight" meant that if he didn't follow the rules, he would be locked in a cupboard for a week.

"Nothing to worry about," said Sirius. "Just some precautions. First…I don't want you saying Voldemort's name in the pub, all right? People are still scared. They don't like to hear the name. Just say 'You-Know-Who' or 'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named'. Try not to call him the Dark Lord, though, since that's what his followers called him."

"Okay," said Harry. "Anything else?"

"Yes," Sirius told him. "The people in here have grown up knowing your name. You're famous in our world."

Harry frowned. "So?"

"So people might be a little…impolite," Sirius said in an undertone. "Insensitive. They might ask you if you remember what Voldemort looks like or if you heard him say the Killing Curse or if the scar hurt when you got it—things like that. You have to forgive them, you know; it's part of celebrity."

"Oh, I see," said Harry nervously.

"Even if they don't," Sirius continued, standing up, "they're still going to want to talk to you, shake your hand, and you can bet they'll be staring at that scar. You'll forgive me for being blunt, but you're going to have to get used to it."

Harry's heart was now beating quite fast, and he found he didn't want to go inside the pub.

"Come on, Harry," said Sirius, smiling kindly. "It'll be all right. They know you saved a lot of them from a terrible fate—and if your paparazzi get too overbearing, I'll tell them to back off. Remember your self-confidence."

"Right…self-confidence," said Harry shakily, still not letting go of Sirius's hand, until they got inside the pub.

 **How will Harry reunite with the Wizarding world? Will he enjoy Gringotts, Griphook and Diagon Alley? How will people react to Sirius and his freedom? Find out soon!**


	6. Gringotts

Harry made sure to press his bangs very flat over his scar. Maybe as long as he did that, nobody would notice him. After all, the scar was the only way people _could_ recognize him, right? He'd only been a baby when he defeated Voldemort…but wait, if anyone knew James, they would know Harry as well…Harry was glad for once that he was so short, and he clung to Sirius's hand and kept his head down as they walked inside.

"Ah, I was wondering when I'd see you again, Sirius!" called the bartender. Harry thought he looked like a toothless walnut. "You haven't aged a day, have you?"

"You flatter me, Tom," said Sirius flatly. "But a drink would be lovely after all those years in Azkaban."

"Azkaban?" said Harry.

"The wizard prison," Sirius whispered.

"What'll you have?" Tom asked.

"One butterbeer, please, and one regular beer," said Sirius, digging some gold out of his pocket. "Thanks."

"Are you sure?" Tom asked jokingly as his eyes drifted to Harry, who flattened his bangs again nervously. "I don't know if your little friend could drink that much…butterbeer's pretty strong stuff, you know…"

"That's not nice," said Sirius. "Bang it on the table, Tom, please."

Tom the innkeeper nodded and started to make the drinks.

"I don't think I'm old enough to drink anything with alcohol in it," Harry said nervously.

"Don't worry, Tom was just joking," said Sirius. "Butterbeer is alcoholic, yes, but only a tiny bit. You'd have to drink a gallon of it before it could get you tipsy."

"I'm 4'2" and I weigh barely sixty pounds," Harry reminded him. "It won't take as much to get me drunk as it will for you."

Sirius shrugged. "If you try it, you'll love it."

Harry took a sip of the butterbeer, and he was glad for it; this was definitely the most delicious drink he had ever had. It didn't take him long to finish the whole mug, and Sirius paid for him to get a refill, smiling as he finished his own regular beer.

Once they were done with their drinks, Harry was relieved; nobody seemed to have recognized him. It wasn't entirely unexpected—the pub was dark, and Harry was short, and he had been constantly pressing his bangs over his scar. But in his excitement to thank Tom for the delicious drink, he completely forgot. Lily's beautiful green eyes, James's messy hair and Harry's unique curse scar were unmistakable.

"Can it be…Harry Potter?" he whispered, in a voice filled with awe. Sirius nodded slightly.

"Um, yes," Harry said uncomfortably. "That's me."

Harry tried to remember Sirius's warning about being unintentionally famous, but his head was clouding as people surrounded him.

"Welcome back, Mr. Potter," said Tom, seizing Harry's hand, his eyes filled with tears. "Welcome back."

"Back to the Wizarding world," Sirius clarified loudly. "Of course, I was of the opinion that he should never have left to begin with, but nobody consulted me…"

Harry was soon shaking hands with everyone in the Leaky Cauldron. People just couldn't seem to get enough of him. He tried to remember his self-confidence, but it was escaping him…What had Sirius told him? Something about Voldermort…about not saying his name…and they certainly were staring at his scar, all of them were…

Sirius was beginning to look irritated.

"Move along, everyone, we have business in Gringotts," he shouted, "and they close in less than an hour! Come on—he's not a zoo exhibit—no shoving— _let me through!"_

"Come back and see us sometime, Harry!" called a witch who looked to be about seventeen years old and possibly drunk.

" _Really!"_ snapped Sirius as they stepped through the bar and out the back door into a sort of courtyard. There was only a trash can and a few weeds.

"I guess you weren't joking about paparazzi," Harry said weakly.

"Nope, I was as serious as a shark attack," Sirius replied roughly, shoving his hands in the pockets of his motorcycle jacket. "It was Dumbledore's idea, you know. I reckon he wanted you to grow up around Muggles because you were too young for fame. But I didn't agree…I knew it meant that once you turned eleven and were old enough for Hogwarts, all the fame would be dumped on you at once, not to mention the fact that our world even exists at all. How is that better?"

"I have the feeling there's no right answer to that question," said Harry.

"Well, time's a-wasting, we've got to get to the bank," said Sirius shortly, taking out his wand. He looked at the brick wall in front of him closely, counting bricks, then tapped it three times. Harry gaped as the bricks opened to form an archway, which Sirius and Harry could fit through easily.

Sirius grabbed Harry's hand and pulled him along, checking the gold wristwatch on his free arm as they walked along. (Gringotts closed at half-past five.) Harry couldn't believe at first that Sirius wasn't looking, but then he reminded himself that Sirius had been, essentially, Wizarding royalty. To him, buying a cauldron or some spellbooks in Diagon Alley was no more exciting than picking up a pack of breath mints at a drugstore.

Harry was straining on Sirius's hand by now—he couldn't help it. There was so much to look at, and Sirius was walking so fast. There were places that sold cauldrons, owls, spellbooks, an apothecary…Sirius had to pull Harry along because Harry wanted to slow down and look at everything in Diagon Alley. Even the witches and wizards doing their shopping were interesting. Everything in the Muggle world seemed completely bland in comparison.

Finally they reached a snowy white marble building. It towered over all the little shops of Diagon Alley. Harry did a double take when he saw who was guarding the doors; could that really be a goblin? The goblin was wearing a scarlet-and-gold uniform. His fingers and toes were very long and he had a pointed beard. Harry was about a head taller than he was.

Sirius and Harry approached Gringotts, and the goblin bowed them inside. When they got through those bronze doors, they encountered another set of doors, this time silver. Harry looked and saw that there was a poem:

 _Enter, stranger, but take heed_

 _Of wait awaits the sin of greed_

 _For those who take, but do not earn_

 _Must pay most dearly in their turn._

 _So if you seek beneath our floors_

 _A treasure that was never yours_

 _Thief, you have been warned, beware_

 _Of finding more than treasure there_.

"It's impossible to successfully steal from this bank," said Sirius. "Even if somehow you managed to break into someone else's vault, you'd be trapped forever and you'd starve to death."

"So we're here to find what my parents left for me?" Harry asked.

"Yes," said Sirius, "but first we need to find your parents' safe deposit box. The safest place in the world to keep anything—well, for a wizard, anyway—is Gringotts. I'm sure your parents' wills are in their safe deposit box."

Once they were in the bank, Harry couldn't help staring at the goblins, but Sirius wasted no time in going up to the front desk and consulting a free goblin.

"Ah, Sirius Black," said the goblin shrewdly. "Rumor has it you got out on a plea bargain."

"I most certainly did not," said Sirius sharply. "I hope you don't spread such false truths. I got an appeal, and they were able to prove me innocent."

"How?" said the goblin. "You blew up a whole street!"

 _What?!_ Thought Harry, but he knew from experience never to interrupt adults when they were talking, even if one of them was a goblin.

"No," said Sirius. "I was framed. They used a Pensieve on me—took the memory of my arrest right out of my head and watched it."

"Who framed you?" asked the goblin.

"Peter Pettigrew," said Sirius. "We switched Secret-Keepers at the last minute. You see, the Fidelius Charm is broken if the Secret-Keeper is killed, and everyone was sure I'd be the Secret-Keeper—I was probably the worst choice. So we decided to switch to Peter, and just not tell anyone about it. That way, if I was killed, the Potters would still be safe, because the Death Eaters would have gotten the wrong man. They didn't believe me until I let them pull that memory out of my head, too."

Pensieve? Secret-Keepers? Fidelius Charm? Death Eaters? Harry didn't know what any of these things were, but he tried to let Sirius and the goblin finish their conversation. It was lucky nobody was in line behind them.

"Ah, so _that's_ why you blasted Pettigrew to bits," said the goblin. "Revenge."

"I meant to," said Sirius, "but here's the thing. I happen to know Peter is an illegal Animagus—he turns into a rat. I tracked him down around Cornwall, and I was just about to curse him when bam, he did it first, and then sped down the sewer with the other rats. I expect he's with a Wizarding family now, just so he'll know if his master ever comes back."

Sirius sounded disgusted, in a way Harry had never seen before. The goblin, however, seemed to enjoy gossiping.

"Bad idea, Sirius," he said, grinning. "Vigilantism is still illegal. You could have just captured him or something like that…didn't you realize you were facing jail time? An insanity plea would have been your only hope, and even that's a long shot."

"Well, there was nothing _else_ to live for, was there?" Sirius shot back. "James dead, Lily dead, I wasn't allowed to keep Harry…It wouldn't have made any difference."

"Surely the Ministry are after Pettigrew, though, now that they know he's alive."

"They sure are." Sirius nodded. "Faking his own death, being an illegal Animagus, double murder of the second degree…he's in hot water."

"I don't know if any of those things carry a life sentence, though," commented the goblin.

"Being a Death Eater does," said Sirius shortly.

"It's already fifteen till, I suppose we'd better get what you came here for, then," sighed the goblin. "What'll it be? Withdrawal?"

"Not today," said Sirius. "I came to open the Potters' safe deposit box."

"Ah…you'll need a court order for that," the goblin informed him.

"No, I won't," said Sirius. "I'm their revocable living trust."

"Where are the safe deposit boxes?" Harry asked. "Are they in a vault, too?"

"Vault 687, your dad's vault—well, it's yours, now," Sirius replied. "The safe deposit box is in that vault, too."

The goblin at the counter called over another goblin, this one named Griphook, who held the door open for him and Sirius. They were in a narrow stone passageway, and torches were the only source of light. Griphook whistled for a cart and then down, down the cart sped. Harry kept his eyes wide open, looking at everything around him. The cart stopped by Harry's vault, and they all climbed out.

"You have a copy of the key?" asked Griphook.

Sirius nodded and held it up. Griphook took the key and unlocked the door; Harry was faced with billowing green smoke, and then…

"All that gold? It's all mine?" Harry gasped.

"It sure is," said Sirius. "Now let's see…"

Sirius clambered to the back of the vault while Harry wandered around the coins, picking them up and examining them. Were they really all his? After he was done looking, he walked over to Sirius, who was now opening the Potters' safe deposit box.

"What's in there?" said Harry.

Sirius smiled at the first thing they saw. It looked like a piece of parchment paper, very square and large. There was nothing written on it.

"I'm sure James wouldn't have minded if you kept his copy," said Sirius, pressing the parchment into Harry's hands.

"What is it?" said Harry.

"It's called the Marauders' Map," said Sirius, taking out his wand. "You tap it with your wand and say these words—'I solemnly swear I am up to no good'—and then…"

After Sirius had tapped the map and said the words, that was when it actually began to look like a map, with "Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs" all listed as the cartographers.

"Or in your case, Uncle Remus, Stinkbomb, Godfather and Dad," Sirius finished. "We each had one, all four of us. Peter's got confiscated at school, but I have mine in my safe deposit box and I'm sure Remus does too…"

The most amazing thing about the map was that it showed where everyone was walking. Sirius explained that it was a map of Hogwarts, the magic school.

"The four of us knew the school better than anyone," Sirius continued. "We knew it inside and out. Now you can use this map in your magical mischief-making."

"Mischief-making?"

"Well, with James for a father, how could you not be a troublemaker?" Sirius grinned and squeezed Harry's shoulder. Sirius showed Harry how to wipe the map ("Mischief Managed") and Harry stuck the map in his pocket. Sirius kept digging in the box; Harry presumed he was looking for the wills. Finally, he found them. James's was first.

Harry watched Sirius read, eyes narrowed, as if proofreading. Then his eyes widened, and he almost dropped the piece of paper in shock.

"What is it?" Harry tried to see, but he was too short. Sirius, one hand over his heart, gave Harry the will.

 _Last Will and Testament_

 _Article 2, Guardianship of Minor_

 _It is my request that the permanent guardianship and power-of-attorney of my son Harry James Potter be given to my close friend, Sirius Orion Black._

 _My second recommendation is Andromeda Tonks._

 _My third recommendation is Albus Dumbledore._

"My aunt and uncle aren't anywhere on here!" said Harry, shocked.

"There was a mix-up when you were born." Sirius sighed. "Nobody consulted me, even though I was sure you were supposed to go to me. For some reason, Albus Dumbledore wanted you with the Muggles. I had no idea James wrote it in his will, though…"

"What does this mean?" Harry asked.

"It means we need a lawyer," Sirius answered.


	7. Bunsen and Barnes, LLC

"What sort of lawyer?" asked Harry.

"I don't think the Ministry of Magic or the Wizengamot deals with this sort of thing," Sirius replied. "This we might handle in Muggle court, actually. So we'll need to look up a family lawyer. Griphook, take us to Vault 711, please."

"I'm afraid I don't see the point," said Griphook. "Muggle lawyers are paid in checks, not gold. We can give you a Gringotts checkbook."

"How can I give a Muggle a check that says 'Gringotts' on it?" snapped Sirius.

"People do it all the time," Griphook told him. "They just tell the Muggle that Gringotts is a small, private bank, and that's why they've probably never heard of it. Besides, we have checks with cute puppies on them."

"Oh…all right, then," said Sirius. "Harry, do you want to take some gold for the road?"

Harry nodded, and Sirius helped him sweep some of his parents' gold into a bag. Then Sirius grabbed James's will, Harry grabbed his money bag and the Marauders' Map, and all three of them got into the cart, which sped along until they were finally out of the labyrinthine tunnel system and out in the sunlight.

"I didn't want to tell Griphook, because it was a bit embarrassing, but I actually rather like this checkbook," said Sirius, looking at the puppies fondly.

"Liking puppies is nothing to feel ashamed of," said Harry wisely. "Are you an animal person?"

"Yes," said Sirius. "Care of Magical Creatures was my favorite class at Hogwarts. Animals seem to be sort of instinctively drawn to me. I'm drawn to them, too, and we get along well."

"Can I buy something in Diagon Alley?" Harry asked hopefully, looking around at all the shops longingly. "You know, now that I have my wizard gold with me?"

"There's really no point," said Sirius. "Your list of school supplies won't arrive for another month. I can take you shopping then."

…

When Sirius and Harry arrived back at the Dursleys', it was almost dinnertime. Harry wanted Sirius to stay for dinner, but he was afraid Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia would be rude to Sirius. Meanwhile, they needed to find a Muggle family lawyer. Harry picked up the phone book and he and Sirius took it upstairs to Harry's room. Sirius cast a spell to make the room soundproof, just in case one of the Dursleys walked by.

"All right," said Sirius. "Can you explain this to me?"

Harry never thought he would have to teach someone how to use a telephone. He unplugged the one in Dudley's room and temporarily brought it into his own.

"So each phone has a number assigned to it, and when you dial that number, the person who has that phone will either answer it or, if they don't, you can leave a voice message," Harry began as Sirius nodded. "If someone calls you, it rings."

The phone wasn't plugged in, so Harry showed Sirius how to dial the phone, then had him practice on his own. Sirius got the hang of it quickly.

"This is weird," he said, "but not so hard."

"How do wizards communicate if they don't have telephones?" Harry asked.

"We use the fireplace, mostly," said Sirius, and he explained about Floo powder. Harry was amazed.

"You don't get burned?" said Harry.

"No." Sirius laughed. "But I reckon we should get a move on."

"Yeah, let's look up our lawyer," Harry added.

Harry helped Sirius navigate the yellow pages until they finally found a likely-looking law firm.

"Bunsen and Barnes, LLP," Sirius read. "Specializing in family law since 1924."

Harry and Sirius both agreed that it should be an adult talking on the phone, so Sirius practiced calling Bunsen and Barnes until he was 100% sure he had it down flat, and then Harry plugged the phone into the wall (Sirius was also watching this with interest; Harry had to explain that the phone wouldn't work unless its cord was plugged into the wall.)

"Remember, Sirius, you don't need to shout or anything," said Harry. "It's probably going to be a secretary who answers, so speak to her like she's standing next to you, not like she's on the other side of the planet."

"Bunsen and Barnes, LLP, my name is Barbara, how can I help you?" said the secretary, as Harry pressed the speakerphone button.

"Hello, Barbara," said Sirius, sounding a little nervous. Harry took the receiver away from his godfather's ear—now that it was on speakerphone, Sirius could just talk freely, and Harry could hear Bunsen and Barnes. "I was hoping I could find someone to help me with a custody case."

"I'll put you through to someone," said Barbara, and easy-listening hold music started playing in the background.

"What's this?" Sirius looked alarmed.

"Relax," said Harry. "She's just transferring you over to a lawyer."

When the lawyer answered, introducing himself as Bernard Glacier, Esquire, Sirius gave him a slightly modified, magic-free version of the case. Harry spoke too.

"So let me just make sure I've got it all down," said Mr. Glacier. "You were falsely imprisoned for your godson's parents' murder ten years ago, and just managed to get out now. Meanwhile, Mr. Potter has been placed with his aunt and uncle, but upon reuniting with him and looking over his father's Last Will and Testament, you have found that his parents have willed custody of him to you?"

"Yes," said Sirius. "Also, his aunt and uncle were abusive, so I'm hoping we can get him away from this house quickly."

"Abuse?" Mr. Glacier sounded concerned. "I didn't know we were dealing with domestic violence."

"Well, they don't _hit_ me, at least not really that hard, or often," said Harry, and Sirius frowned.

"It's extreme neglect, Mr. Glacier," Sirius told the attorney solemnly. "Any pediatrician will tell you he's very behind on the growth curve due to malnutrition. They treat him like vermin, Mr. Glacier, and it needs to stop. Surely you also understand that emotional abuse hurts just as much as if they hit him."

"Of course I do," said Mr. Glacier. "How old are you, Mr. Potter?"

"Ten," Harry told him. "But I'll be eleven soon."

"This is why I decided to work in family law, you know," said Mr. Glacier, and he sounded angry. "I wanted to help children like you escape harmful environments like your aunt and uncle's house—and I'm sure you and your godfather would both want your parents' final wishes honored. Are you planning on filing suit against your relatives, Mr. Potter?"

"Yes, he is," said Sirius firmly, before Harry could say anything.

"It's not as easy to find proof for emotional abuse," Mr. Glacier warned them. "Mr. Potter will have to take a psychiatric exam for sure, although he may be required to have a physical as well…Is there anyone else who can provide evidence? Neighbors? Teachers?"

"I'm sure the teachers have noticed something's wrong," said Sirius. "Also, I know one of his neighbors, Arabella Figg."

"You _know_ —?" Harry began in shock, but Sirius put a finger to his lips.

"Well, Mr. Black, since you have written proof that Mr. Potter is supposed to be in your care, this case shouldn't be too much of a struggle," said Mr. Glacier. "And remember, you can't sue for damages until your relatives have lost custody. Could I meet you in my office sometime soon? Does noon this Thursday work?"

"I'll miss school," said Harry. He didn't want to go to school, but he thought he would get in trouble if he didn't go.

"Mr. Black has your power-of-attorney," said Mr. Glacier. "So he can write a note excusing you from class."

"Very well; we'll see you then," said Sirius. Once he had hung up the phone, Harry turned to Sirius.

"How do you know Mrs. Figg?" he asked.

"She's a Squib," explained Sirius. "That means she comes from a wizard family, but she has no magic powers. She lived nearby us when I was younger, in London."

"Small world," said Harry, and Sirius nodded.

…

On Thursday, Harry went into school, but Sirius had him give the principal a note around noon, one that would get him out of the rest of the day. When Harry walked out of the building after eating lunch, he noticed Sirius waiting outside on his motorcycle.

"Mr. Glacier's office is in London," said Sirius. "So we'd better get going."

Harry got on the back of the motorcycle, excited to fly on it again. But before they could take off, both of them were taken by surprise. Someone had just appeared out of thin air, and the long silver hair and beard, half-moon glasses, and bright blue eyes were unmistakable.


	8. Barbara and Mr Glacier

**WARNING: Some serious Dumbledore bashing in this chapter. But he rather had it coming here, you have to admit.**

…

In one split second, the old wizard raised his wand and yelled, _"Obliviate!"_

Sirius forced Harry's head down—and not a moment too soon. The jet of light from the spell passed through right where Harry's forehead had been a moment before; it hit a bronze school statue behind them with a hollow _bong_. Sirius pulled out his own wand.

"What the hell was that?!" he barked.

"You and James never paid much attention to the rules, did you?" said Dumbledore calmly, lowering Sirius's wand tip with his own. "Harry wasn't supposed to find out the truth until he turned eleven—and now you are going to try to claim custody?"

"Not _try_ ," growled Sirius, and Harry was reminded of his dog Patronus. "Custody is mine."

"Harry has to stay with his aunt and uncle until he turns seventeen," Dumbledore told him. "I have my reasons."

"Who the hell are you to decide?!" Sirius snapped back. "Lily, James and Harry have the right to decide where Harry goes! Nobody else!"

"I repeat," said Dumbledore, his voice just a little quieter, his face calm, but Harry saw a fire burning in those blue eyes now. "Harry has to live with the Muggles until he is seventeen. Dumbledore's orders."

"Yeah, well, I'm _done!"_ Sirius shouted. "Just because you give me an 'order' doesn't mean I have to follow it! I'm not a house-elf! Some people say you're the most powerful wizard of our times, and maybe you are, but with all due respect, I think you've let it go to your head!"

"Sirius," said Dumbledore in almost a whisper, raising his wand, "get out of the way."

"Because of your foolishness, Harry was _abused!"_ Sirius's voice was so venomous that Harry saw Dumbledore flinch. "You're lucky I don't run you in for criminal negligence! Did you know, _Professor_ , that it's a crime to know about abuse and not report it?"

"Sirius, Voldemort may be powerless and weak, but many Death Eaters are still at large," said Dumbledore. "I thought perhaps if I cut him off from our world, he would be safest from Voldemort's followers, the ones who managed to get out of prison and were out looking for him. I thought that would be safest."

"Well, you still should have consulted me!" Sirius cried, placing one hand protectively on Harry's shoulder. "And you were wrong, anyway! Death Eaters might not have showed up at the door, but he was still treated horribly! He wasn't fed right, he wasn't loved...It wouldn't have hurt at all for him to know about our world, either! That would be better than dumping it all on him at once when he turns eleven! It would have been better for him to grow up with it…otherwise it's such a shock…especially the part about being famous for something he doesn't even remember!"

"Um, could I say something?" said Harry, timidly raising his hand.

"Certainly," said Sirius, glaring at Dumbledore.

"I want to live with Sirius," Harry told Dumbledore. "I know about Voldemort and his followers, and I think Sirius can protect me. My parents _wanted_ Sirius to look after me."

"You can take this to court if you want, Dumbledore," said Sirius, rather nastily, "but it won't help. You can't argue with legality. Why would the judge listen to what you have to say, when I have the will?"

"Nevertheless…I would like to accompany you to your meeting with Mr. Glacier," said Dumbledore. "I shall Apparate there; you and Harry can fly."

…

Mr. Glacier's office was in London, in a huge office building. Harry liked Diagon Alley better than the Muggle buildings, which now seemed very cold and impersonal in comparison. The flying had soothed his jangled nerves somewhat, and Sirius (using the Invisibility Booster, of course), flew all the way up to the highest story of Mr. Glacier's building, then down again, very quickly. They landed on the pavement, parked the motorcycle, turned off the Invisibility Booster and walked into the reception area of Bunsen and Barnes, LLC. Dumbledore was sitting in the waiting area.

"Dumbledore got here quicker, because he Apparated," Sirius explained quietly.

"What's that?"

"Moving from one place to another instantly."

"Oh…Muggles call that teleporting."

Sirius approached the reception desk, where a pretty young woman in a red skirtsuit, perhaps in her mid-twenties, was sitting at a computer. Her nametag said "Barbara".

"So you must be Barbara," said Sirius, leaning on the desk. Harry noticed his voice sounded a little deeper than usual. "We spoke on the telephone."

"Did we?" said Barbara. Her eyes were a pleasant shade of hazel, and her hair was dark-brown. It was wavy and went halfway down her back, spilling over her shoulders in slight curls.

"We did, last Monday, I believe," said Sirius. "Might I say, you have the most beautiful eyes. Very unique."

"Oh…thanks," said Barbara, her fair skin turning slightly pink. "They're the same as my dad's. My grandfather's, too. I like your motorcycle jacket. Motorcycles are so cool; I've always wanted to ride on one."

"That could be arranged," Sirius replied, tossing his long black hair out of his eyes (although Harry thought it wasn't just to get it out of his eyes). "Are you free this Saturday night?"

Harry remembered what Sirius had said about countless girls riding on his motorcycle.

"I think I can squeeze you in," said Barbara, winking. She printed a piece of receipt tape and scribbled down her address, then handed it to Sirius. "Will eight do?"

"Eight would be wonderful," said Sirius, sticking Barbara's address in his pocket. "I'll swing by your place."

"And who is this?" Barbara asked kindly, smiling at Harry.

"This is my godson, Harry Potter," said Sirius.

Harry waved to Barbara, because he wanted to be polite, but he really just wanted to get up to Mr. Glacier's office and meet _him_. Surely Sirius could find another time to hit on Mr. Glacier's secretary. Harry may only have been almost eleven, but he had seen enough cable TV, peered at discreetly over his relatives' shoulders, to recognize flirting when he saw it.

"I assume you two have an appointment with Mr. Glacier, then?" said Barbara.

"Yes, at noon," said Sirius. "Also, the old man with the long beard is going to be going with us."

Barbara nodded. "Quite an unusual fashion style."

There were still ten minutes until noon, so Sirius and Harry went to sit near Dumbledore in the reception area. Sirius sighed blissfully.

"Blimey, I missed that in prison," he told Harry longingly.

"You missed what?" said Harry, confused.

"Women, of course," said Sirius as they sat down. "What would this world be without them? Well…you'll understand someday…"

Harry certainly didn't understand now, but Dumbledore seemed to.

"Some things never change," said the old wizard, looking exasperated. "I see you still flirt with anything that moves, Sirius."

"Well, she's hot," said Sirius, watching Barbara.

Harry wondered if there would be a lot of young women coming to visit the flat when he lived with Sirius. Hopefully not.

…

Mr. Glacier wasn't quite as young as his secretary; in fact, he was probably old enough to be her grandfather. He was bald on top, although he had some bright white hair on either side of his head. He had a rather oversized nose, and he wore glasses and a pinstriped black suit.

"Ah, you must be Mr. Potter," he said, reaching out to shake Harry's hand.

"Yes," said Harry. "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Glacier."

"So polite," said Mr. Glacier. "Now, which one of you two is Mr. Black?"

"I am," said Sirius, handing the will to Mr. Glacier; the lawyer opened it and flipped to Article 2. "This is Albus Dumbledore. His name was third on the list of suggestions in James's will. But he thinks Harry should remain with his aunt and uncle."

"Come now, Mr. Dumbledore," said Mr. Glacier. "We can't let that happen. They're abusive."

"It's been nearly ten years and Harry is still alive," said Dumbledore. "And please, Mr. Glacier, call me Albus."

"Sure, Harry might still be _alive_ , but that doesn't mean he isn't suffering," said Sirius.

"Mr. Black is right," agreed Mr. Glacier. "Every child deserves a loving and stable home."

Harry was used to adults talking about him like he wasn't there, so he didn't say anything; he just watched them discuss the case.

"I can give Harry that home," said Sirius.

"Besides, Mr. Black has the will," Mr. Glacier added. "The judge will most likely give Harry to Sirius, seeing as his aunt and uncle aren't even on the list of recommendations. I noticed James had three suggestions."

"The second one is my favorite cousin," Sirius explained. "James knew her, too. I suppose he thought that if I couldn't take care of Harry, Andromeda would be good as well. She had her own small daughter, too, Nymphadora."

"I'm surprised that James entrusted you with his child, Albus, if you are willing to send Harry to his abusive relatives," said Mr. Glacier rather icily.

"Who knows what he was thinking?" said Sirius. "Maybe he was worried that neither I nor Andromeda would be able to take care of Harry, and he wanted to add a third person, just so Harry wouldn't have to end up with the Dursleys."

"I know you were also planning on filing suit, Mr. Potter," Mr. Glacier continued. "Like I said, the law prohibits you from this until your aunt and uncle have lost custody of you. So for now, we should focus on the custody case for now and sue for damages later. However, you might be able to receive a large settlement. 'Eggshell clients', we call them—Plaintiffs who are children, pregnant women, elderly, disabled, you know—are more likely to recover."

"Maybe Uncle Vernon will have to sell Grunnings." Harry grinned.

"Grunnings?" Sirius looked confused.

"That's his company," Harry explained. "They make drills. I know because he always complains about work."

"Either way, the law is on our side," said Mr. Glacier. "You know, since we have the will. We just need to make sure there's nothing that could make the judge think otherwise."

"Should we also see if we can set up a court date?" asked Sirius.

"I will look into that," said Mr. Glacier. "Have you anything more to say…Albus?"

"We shall see each other again, Harry," said Dumbledore, and he left Mr. Glacier's office. Harry heard a loud crack from outside; he didn't know it at the time, but that was the sound of Dumbledore Disapparating. Meanwhile, Mr. Glacier, Sirius and Harry put their heads together, making sure their case would be rock-solid.


	9. Sick

Sirius was able to visit Harry the next day on Friday, which was Harry's last day of school. Sirius was busy on Saturday, not just because of his date with Barbara, but because he was seeing his landlord. He had gotten his old flat back since he'd been released from prison, but he thought that if Harry was living with him (and, indeed, if women would be coming by) he might need a nicer place than the old studio in which he had been living before.

Since he didn't get to see Sirius on Saturday, Harry didn't do much; he found that he didn't have the energy. Even though it was in the mid-to-high sixties outside, he was still somehow feeling cold. So he wore his House of Fraser sweatshirt that day with a T-shirt underneath. Since he wanted to watch TV, he told the Dursleys that Sirius might be coming over later, and they cleared off. It wasn't until evening that they returned; Harry learned that they had spent the day in London.

When Harry woke up on Sunday morning, he felt even worse than yesterday, and just as cold. So he dressed in another pair of his new dark wash jeans and a thick sweater, and dragged his quilt (a very faded, thin quilt) downstairs with him, although it didn't actually make him much warmer. It wasn't until he started coughing and sneezing that he realized he must be sick.

The only good thing about being sick, or at least in Harry's case, was that it made the Dursleys leave him alone. Dudley wouldn't punch him, because he didn't want to get sick too. However, being sick also meant being quarantined, or locked in the cupboard again. And if you needed to throw up constantly, it wasn't good to be locked anywhere.

Sirius arrived at noon and (like always) used magic to unlock the door. Harry was glad that he didn't have to get up to answer the door for Sirius, because his legs were feeling like gelatin, and he was very nauseous.

"Harry, are you all right?" Sirius frowned and leaned down on the couch next to Harry, feeling his forehead with the back of his hand. "For Christ's sake, you're burning up."

"Go home, Sirius, go home," Harry moaned. "I'm—I'm—"

But Harry didn't get to finish his sentence; he barely got to glimpse Sirius's look of alarm before he vomited all over the couch. Sirius was able to get rid of the whole mess quickly using magic.

"Where are the Muggles?" he demanded, his wand still in hand.

Harry shrugged and forced a smile. "Don't worry, they'll leave me alone."

Sirius muttered, " _Infermero_ ", and stuck his wand right into Harry's ear.

"Ow," Harry said weakly.

"It's just an old trick of your grandmother's," said Sirius, pulling his wand out, and watching as smoke drifted out of the wand tip and formed the number _104_.

Sirius was able to lift Harry easily and carry him up the stairs; Harry wrapped his arms around Sirius's neck.

"I'm so cold," Harry mumbled. "You left my quilt downstairs…"

"I can get you another one, this time one that doesn't look like it once belonged to a mad old lady," said Sirius. "You're forgetting I'm a wizard."

When they got upstairs Sirius helped Harry into pajamas, got him into bed and told him to stay there. Then he used his wand to make a fluffy, brand-new quilt appear out of mid-air, as well as a large kitchen pot.

"If you need to throw up…do it in there," said Sirius. "It has a spell on it to automatically clean itself."

"Thanks," mumbled Harry, who was already feeling nauseous again.

"I'll be right back," said Sirius, and with a loud crack, he vanished into midair. When he came back a half hour later, he was carrying a goblet of potion, which was smoking slightly.

"What's that?" Harry's voice was muffled, because his mouth was on his pillow.

"Pepper-Up Potion," said Sirius, sounding worried. "I got in Diagon Alley. It cures colds."

Harry wasn't sure he was strong enough to sit up. Sirius put his hand on Harry's back and hoisted him up, then helped him drink the potion. Harry felt a bit warmer, but not much better than before.

"Did it help?" said Sirius hopefully.

"No," Harry moaned, collapsing back onto his pillow. The only thing that the potion did was for Harry was make steam come out of his ears, and he didn't appreciate it.

"Then you probably have the flu, just like I thought." Sirius sighed. "Pepper-Up Potion cures colds, but it doesn't do jack for the flu, I'm afraid."

"Please go home, Sirius," Harry repeated miserably. "I don't want to get you sick too."

"Never mind me," said Sirius fiercely. "I'm your godfather. I'll look after you while you're sick."

Sirius didn't leave Harry all day; Harry was still worried he would get Sirius sick, but Sirius only seemed worried about Harry. After explaining that conjured water evaporates, he went down to the kitchen and got water and milk.

"You've got to drink plenty of fluids," said Sirius, making sure Harry drank the whole cup of water, then performing the _Infermero_ spell again. Harry found it disconcerting to have a wand stuck in his ear, but then, at least it registered instantly; he didn't have to sit with a thermometer in his mouth like Dudley did.

Harry felt weak and sick and almost as helpless as a baby for the rest of that day. Much of it was spent sleeping. It was lucky the kitchen pot was self-cleaning, for he threw up twice in one afternoon (and it also eliminated the need for him to get out of bed to use the bathroom). Towards the evening, after making him drink some milk, Sirius told Harry about Hogwarts, sitting on the edge of the bed, smoothing Harry's hair comfortingly.

"They've got tall towers and a big lake," Sirius was saying, "where there's a giant squid, and you can sit by the edge of the lake and watch it. There's a Forbidden Forest, with unicorns and centaurs and all sorts of things…and the castle is great too. There are big feasts with all kinds of food—even those minature ears of corn—staircases that change direction, secret doors hidden behind tapestries, dungeons, and a poltergeist named Peeves. There are hidden rooms and secret passageways and a secret room that only appears when you need it, called the Room of Requirement."

Sirius kept talking, and as Harry listened with his eyes closed, a picture of Hogwarts formed in his mind. It made him want to go there more than ever, although at the present moment he felt too sickly to go anywhere.

"There are four Houses," Sirius continued on. "Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin."

"Which House was my dad in?"

"Gryffindor, where dwell the brave at heart," said Sirius gently, ruffling Harry's hair, "like _his_ dad. Lily was in Gryffindor, too, and so was I."

"How do they know where to put you?" Harry asked.

"They have a Sorting Hat that you try on," Sirius explained. "It's made some questionable decisions in the past, but I think overall it puts people in the right House. There's this little rhyme it has—"

 _Said Slytherin,_

 _We'll take only those whose ancestry is purest._

 _Said Ravenclaw,_

 _We'll take those whose intelligence is surest._

 _Said Gryffindor,_

 _We'll take those who have brave deeds to their name,_

 _Said Hufflepuff,_

 _We'll take the lot, and teach them just the same._

Harry fell asleep just as Sirius was explaining about the founders—Godric Gryffindor, Rowena Ravenclaw, Helga Hufflepuff, and Salazar Slytherin—and their big fight over whether or not non-purebloods should be allowed to go to Hogwarts. It was an interesting story, but he didn't catch most of it…

…

That night, Harry had the worst dream he had experienced in a long time. He'd had that dream before—but it was so clear this time. The laugh he heard was cold as ice, mirthless and high-pitched. There was horrible screaming, a woman screaming…But it wasn't in anger, it was in fear, terror, pleading…Flashes of green light…that awful, chilling laugh…

It was only Harry's aching joints and nauseous stomach that woke him up, tangled tightly in his bedsheets like a caterpillar in a cocoon. It was dark, in the middle of the night; he had to squint without his glasses, but his bedside clock told him it was three in the morning. Sirius was at home, asleep.

Harry fought to disentangle himself from his bedsheets. It wasn't easy to do when he was so weak, but he managed it—and as soon as he did he vomited into the pot, which scrubbed itself clean instantly.

True, his stomach felt a bit better after he'd emptied it. But he still felt so incredibly cold, and he pulled his new quilt around him as Voldemort's laugh rang in his ears. Two more victims that night…

Since it was summertime the sun rose early. There was a backdrop of royal blue, the trees dark black in contrast, which gave way to a soft pink, then red, then finally the bright sun rose into the sky. Harry saw none of it. He was hiding under his sheets, tears burning underneath his squeezed-shut eyelids, feeling freezing cold and shaky, as he tried to keep the sounds of that horrible night out of his head. He didn't know what scared him more, his mother's screams or Voldemort's laugh.

For hours, Harry stayed lost in this dream-like, horrified state. Finally, around six in the morning, he felt someone's hand on his shoulder. He flinched and let out a feeble yelp.

"Prongslet," Sirius said, taking the covers off of Harry's head and pulling him into a hug. "What happened?"

Harry didn't know how to tell Sirius about his dream. It was just too horrible, all of it. So he shook his head and tried to hold back the tears that were threatening to escape him. Sirius didn't let go of Harry, just held him closer, running his hands through his untidy hair, and humming a tune under his breath—one Harry swore he had heard before, but he couldn't think where…After a few minutes it soothed him a little, and he lay back down.

"What happened?" Sirius repeated.

"I dreamed…" Harry was hesitant, but then again, Sirius did want to know. "I dreamed about Voldemort killing my parents."

"Oh, Prongslet, I'm so sorry…" Sirius pushed Harry's sweaty bangs back and felt his forehead again. Harry noticed he looked rather close to tears himself. "Nobody should have to dream about that."

"I think it was my mother screaming I heard," Harry said dazedly. "There was a bunch of green light. And this laughing. This horrible laughing…"

Sirius looked disturbed. His face had certainly gone paler. Perhaps wanting to distract Harry, he reached for some soup on the nightstand and held out a spoonful.

"I made you some chicken soup," he said hopefully. "I mean…I'm no professional chef…but I still survived several years of my own cooking after I left your father's house, so…"

"Not hungry," Harry mumbled.

"Harry, if you don't eat we have to go to the hospital," said Sirius gently.

"Don't put me in the hospital!" moaned Harry, and that was when he started to cry. He couldn't remember ever being in a hospital, and that was scary enough, but from what he'd seen on TV, the hospital was _not_ somewhere he wanted to go. On top of everything else, Sirius was going to haul him out of bed and take him to…well, Harry didn't _know_ what the doctors would do to him.

"Oh, Harry, don't cry, please don't cry," said Sirius, picking him up and hugging him again. Sirius didn't let go until Harry stopped crying. "At least drink this."

There was a glass of water sitting on Harry's nightstand, next to the bowl of soup, which Harry couldn't even look at without his stomach feeling upset again. Harry watched as Sirius took out his wand and muttered a spell under his breath; the tip of the wand grew red-hot and steam rose from the water.

"This is a remedy of Euphemia's," Sirius said softly, handing Harry the hot-water cup carefully. "I think she learned it from _her_ mother. Either way, it works. Hot water works wonders on an upset stomach."

Harry nodded and drank the hot water. It almost burned his tongue, but it went down easier than soup.

"Thank you, Sirius," said Harry weakly.

"By the way, I meant to give this to you…if you still want it, I mean," said Sirius, a bit ruefully. "I found it in my old flat when I moved back in after Azkaban. I guess you left it there when your parents were visiting and just never came back to get it…"

"What have you got?"

"You're probably too old for this thing, but here," said Sirius, and he handed Harry an old stuffed animal. It was a stag, and one of the antlers was torn off.

"I left a reindeer toy at your flat?" asked Harry.

"It's something James bought for your first birthday," Sirius explained. "You never went anywhere without it. You'd barely let Lily take it away from you so she could wash it."

"Well, maybe I'll only sleep with it when I'm sick," said Harry, hugging the ten-year-old stuffed stag. "Just don't tell anyone."

"It could be worse," Sirius told him. "My brother Regulus slept with his security blanket well into his teens."

Harry's stomach was feeling a little better since he drank the hot water, and he smiled a bit. "Really?"

"Yeah," said Sirius. "But he was always a real Mama's boy. It was weird, you know…I don't know if I told you, but I ran away from home at sixteen, and the night before, Regulus came shuffling into my room with his pink heart pajamas, clutching that blanket of his as tight as he could…It was weird. It was like he knew I was thinking about leaving. Tears were just streaming down his face, and his cheeks were all red, and he blurted out, 'Sirius! I always thought you were kind of cool!' I don't know how he knew…Maybe it was because my mother and I had one of our biggest fights ever…I didn't understand, so I just sent him out of the room."

"What happened?" asked Harry.

"Well, she started out by asking me, _again_ , why I wasn't more like Regulus," said Sirius, rolling his eyes. "Then I said I didn't want to be like Regulus, and she yelled at me, 'SIRIUS ORION BLACK, YOU ARE A PUREBLOOD WIZARD! ACT LIKE IT!' and I said, 'Maybe I don't want to be a pureblood anymore! In fact, I wish I had Muggle parents!' I got smacked right across the face for that one."

"Your mum _hit_ you?" Harry was shocked, remembering how Aunt Petunia doted on Dudley.

"I was sixteen by then." Sirius shrugged. "I could take a hit like a man."

"Well, that's one thing we have in common," said Harry, giving Sirius a weak smile. "We both had terrible childhoods."

"It's not too late for you, though, Harry," said Sirius gently. "I'll make sure the rest of your childhood is the best it can be. I'll make sure you get to come live with me, the two of us will get a nice London flat—"

"What about the flat you're living in now?"

"Oh, you don't want to live there," said Sirius. "It's just a bachelor pad, and a pretty lame one at that."

"But you're rich," said Harry. "I thought you would've bought a nice big house."

"Harry," said Sirius, grinning, "do I look like the sort of man who's going to blow a ton of money on a fancy house, if there are no kids, pets or women?"

"No," said Harry truthfully, knowing that Sirius would take his friends over his fortune any day of the week.

"Anyway," Sirius continued, "I'll make sure I get custody, then we'll lick those monsters."

 **How long will Harry's flu last? Will Sirius be able to look after him? What else will Sirius find in his old flat? And what will that mean for poor sick Harry? Find out soon!**


	10. The Photo

The rest of the day, Harry still felt horrible, but it wasn't as bad as the other times when he had been sick, and had to look after himself. Around noon Sirius drew him a hot bath, giving him bubbles and a magazine to read.

Harry stayed in the water for at least an hour. The bubbles weren't like any he'd ever seen before—they were Wizarding bubbles, which meant they were more special-effects-oriented. They were huge, multicolored, and came in different shapes. Some of them wouldn't pop. Sirius had a lot of types of bubbles, and Harry tried them all. He had to admit, if you had to come down with the flu, it was better to be sitting in a bath with a pillow, candles, a magazine and extreme bubbles than it was to be quarantined in your cupboard.

Sirius had also purchased brand-new pajamas for Harry, emerald-green to match his eyes, and they were hanging on the hook attached to the bathroom door. When he was getting ready to get out, he heard the doorbell ring downstairs.

The Dursleys had been downstairs all day and Harry heard Aunt Petunia answering the door.

"Could I help you?" she snapped.

"Yes, is this #4 Privet Drive?" said a woman's voice. Harry was surprised to hear that it was Barbara's. "I'm looking for Sirius Black."

Sirius's footsteps thundered down the stairs. Harry couldn't hear any more of their conversation, until finally the door shut again and Sirius came back upstairs.

"Was that Barbara?" Harry called through the bathroom door.

"Yes," said Sirius. "She brought you a get well-card and some brownies. They're her great-grandmother's recipe."

Harry felt his stomach churn at the thought of eating something like brownies. "I don't know…Maybe later."

"I'll put them in the refrigerator," said Sirius, and he headed back downstairs.

Harry pulled the plug out of the drain and climbed shakily out of the tub. He was still quite weak on his feet. Once he was wearing his new pajamas (very comfortable—they were made of pure satin) and fuzzy socks, he stumbled out into the hallway, feeling quite sleepy. Luckily, he ran into Sirius, who was able to keep his walking steady on the way back to bed.

Part of Harry was a little embarrassed at being spoiled by Sirius, because he figured since he would be eleven in one month, he should be taking care of himself. But the other half of him liked it, because he couldn't remember an adult ever treating him this nicely, unless it was a part of their job (like a teacher). Sirius genuinely _cared_.

As soon as he got into bed, Harry grabbed his stuffed toy, snuggled it, and dropped right off to sleep.

…

Over the next few days Harry improved, slowly but steadily. On Wednesday, his temperature was down to 102 and he had been eating soup, although the brownies were still in the fridge. After ten years of not knowing anything about his parents, Harry was suddenly hearing tons of stories about them. By the evening, Sirius was telling Harry all about how the Marauders became Animagi.

"So I lost my ability to sweat for a week," said Sirius, "and James had a pair of antlers sticking clean out of his head—"

"Oh, I get it," said Harry softly, fingering the one antler his toy had left. " _Prongs_."

"Right." Sirius grinned. "When we finally managed to work out all the problems, James was a stag."

"Could you really smell like a dog?" Harry asked.

"Yes, and it's not as much of a gift as you might think," Sirius replied. "Bad smells are magnified, too, so a lot of the time you wish you just smelled like a human. It did come in handy, though…When we snuck out after hours, I could always smell when a teacher was coming."

"That is useful," said Harry. "If you two were as trouble-making as you say."

"We were," Sirius reassured him. "We were."

…

On Friday, Sirius came early in the morning, as usual, although Harry didn't wake up until noon. When he did, Sirius insisted on taking his temperature again.

"Great!" said Sirius, as the smoke that came out of his wand formed itself into the number _98_. "No fever. You'll soon start to feel better now."

"I hope so," said Harry. Even though he was still feeling weak, and he still had a bit of a cough, his head didn't hurt and his appetite was back—in fact, he had even tried one of Barbara's brownies. They were delicious.

"By the way, I have a present for you," said Sirius. "Something else I found in my flat."

Harry took the picture frame from Sirius. "Is this picture supposed to be moving, or am I sicker than I thought?"

"All pictures move in the Wizarding world," Sirius explained. "That's your mum and dad on James's twentieth birthday. I took the picture myself."

Looking at the picture carefully, Harry could see how happy his parents looked. They were dancing; Lily's smile lit up her whole face; her green eyes, just like Harry's, shone beautifully. James did, indeed, have the same exact hair as Harry; he was looking at Lilly with the utmost expression of love in his eyes as he lifted up his arm to twirl her around. It was hard to believe that a little over a year later, the two of them would be murdered in cold blood.

"They got married not long after this was taken," said Sirius. "November 1980."

"Why did they get married and start a family so young?" asked Harry.

"Oh, well, you know…" Sirius shrugged, looking up at the ceiling. "They loved each other a lot. Didn't want to let the war get in the way of that."

"They do look happy," Harry agreed.

"You know, everybody thinks that spending ten years in Azkaban with the dementors was the hardest thing I've ever had to do," Sirius said softly, looking at the photo. "But it wasn't."

"But that place is supposed to be horrible, isn't it?"

"Undoubtedly," said Sirius. "But the hardest thing I've ever had to do was give you up. When I came to your parents' house that night, the first thing I saw was the house in ruins. I was sure you would be dead. Then I ran into one of Dumbledore's friends, Hagrid…and there you were, in his arms…this horrible cut across your forehead…I guess Hagrid was taking you out of the ruins. So when I realized what had happened, I told Hagrid I was your godfather, that I would look after you."

"And…what did this Hagrid do?"

"Well, you didn't grow up with me, did you?" Sirius's striking gray eyes were now shining with tears. "Hagrid told me you were supposed to go to your aunt and uncle's house. I insisted that you come with me—I knew I would give you a better home—but eventually I had to give in…but if I had known…if I could do it over…" Sirius shook his untidy black head. "Then what happened next haunted me for the next ten years."

"What?"

"Well, Hagrid let me hold you one last time," said Sirius, wiping away an escaped tear. "I think you wanted to stay with me, too. You were clinging to my shirt with such a tight grip…you were starting to cry…and…and then you said my name in this tiny, quivering voice…"

"You mean, Sirius?"

"No…Padfoot." Sirius now was trying and failing to wipe away his own tears. "And that small voice never left my head for ten long years. I don't know what I was thinking. I never should have let him take you away. The hell with Dumbledore's orders."

Before he knew what he was doing, Harry sat up in bed and squeezed Sirius as tight as he could.

"You'll never have to give me up again, Sirius," he mumbled. "I promise."

"Thank you," Sirius whispered, hugging him back. When Harry let him go, he continued speaking, watching Lily and James dance in the photo, not bothering to stop his tears. "I stayed there for a while after you left…James was there in the doorway. I-I think…I think he tried to take on Voldemort himself. To…to give you and Lily time to make a run for it. Of course, he was the bravest man I ever met. I don't know why he had to die so early. I really don't.

"We met on the school train, before our first year," Sirius said. "James always hated the Dark Arts, he hated Slytherin, and yet even though he knew my background, he gave me a chance…he was my first and my best friend. He was like a brother to me. So I know—so I know what that's like. To lose your other half. Because I can't describe it any other way. But I know that James and Lily will always live on forever in their son."

"You really think I'm like him?" asked Harry.

"I know it…and in time you'll come to see it too," Sirius replied. "Lily's in there, too, you know. You have her kind, loving spirit…the green eyes…and of course all that sass."

"Sass?"

"Oh, yes, she had quite a mouth on her," Sirius replied, smiling sadly. "She once told your dad she wouldn't date him if it was a choice between him and the giant squid. She was upstairs in the nursery when she died—trying to protect you.

"The human mind isn't built to deal with that sort of thing, I don't think," Sirius said thoughtfully, staring down. "You have to be careful when it happens…Memories like that, they can eat away at you…reduce you to a shell of what you once were…sometimes take away the part of you that's able to love."

"So why didn't you become that way?"

"What way?"

"You know…destroyed by your…by your losses and all that," said Harry, struggling to find a way to phrase it. "I mean, you could have been bitter…cruel…mean, unable to love or let _anyone_ in…But you aren't. Why is that?"

"Because that sort of existence is very lonely, Harry," said Sirius, his eyes dripping with tears again. "I'm through with being lonely. You can never truly be free if you walk this world alone. When something bad happens to you, you've got two choices—you can let it destroy you and become something terrible, not much better than the problem itself…Or you can take the shattered pieces of your heart, sew them back together, and learn to love again. You don't need to forget about the people who died—never. But you can still make room for those people who are still left here on Earth. No matter what they do to me, they can never take away that part of me, that part of me that can love. And besides…do you think James would really have wanted me to sit around missing him?"

Harry shook his head.

Sirius glanced again at the photo and wiped his eyes. "If you know what I mean, I would rather be his friend and lose him than not have known him at all. Love is always a risk. But what's life without a little risk? When you _take_ that risk…it's so worth it. There's one person I'd never want to be, and that's the person who never takes risks."

"So is Barbara a risk?" said Harry. "I mean, you love her, right?"

"Harry," said Sirius, smiling a little. "We've been on one date."

"Are you going to marry her?" asked Harry.

"That's a long way off, trust me." Sirius ruffled Harry's hair affectionately. "You don't have to share me for now."

…

Harry woke up many hours later, late in the middle of the night. Usually Sirius went home at night, so he was just about to climb out of bed and get a glass of water. But to his surprise, Sirius was sitting on the side of the bed, illuminated by a strip of moonlight. Harry didn't have to guess what he was looking at, though.

Sirius sat there for a while, still as a statue were it not for the hot tears leaking from his eyes. He wiped them away on the sleeve of his shirt, not taking his eyes off the picture.

For a minute Harry thought about going over to Sirius and comforting him, but then he figured maybe Sirius just wanted to be left alone—and besides, what could Harry say that could possibly help? So he just closed his eyes again and hugged his Prongs toy tight, letting Sirius watch over Lily and James, tears running down his nose, as they danced on, blissfully unaware of the tragic fate that would soon befall them.


	11. Wizarding Blood, Muggle Blood

By Monday, Harry was feeling 100% better. Plus, it was July 15, which meant his birthday was in only sixteen days, and this was the first time in his life he could ever remember looking forward to a birthday. Not only because he might be getting a party and presents, but because thanks to what Sirius had told him, he knew he would be getting his Hogwarts letter any day now.

Harry was teaching Sirius about the TV. It wasn't as easy as teaching him about the phone. Sirius had thought at first that they were photographs that moved, just like in the Wizarding world.

"No," said Harry. "We have moving pictures, too, but in the Muggle world they're called videos. You play videos on the TV."

Sirius still looked confused, but he didn't ask any more questions. They were watching a "situation comedy". It wasn't like the smarmy soap operas Aunt Petunia liked to watch while Uncle Vernon was at work and Dudley and Harry were at school—it was actually funny, even though Sirius found the laugh track annoying. The episode was about one of the main characters getting married and his friends were planning a bachelor party.

"I remember your dad's bachelor party," said Sirius. "Good times."

"What happened?" said Harry.

"I'll tell you when you're older," said Sirius, and Harry was about to protest this, but that was when the doorbell rang. It was Barbara, with more brownies, on her day off. Sirius invited her inside.

"Sirius says you fell in love with my great-grandmother's brownie recipe, so I brought you some more," she said cheerfully, although her hazel eyes were on Sirius, and Harry suspected the brownies were not the real reason she was visiting.

"Thank you," said Sirius, taking the Tupperware container, which was filled with about twenty brownies, and setting it on the coffee table. Harry grabbed one triangular brownie, licked the powdered sugar off the top, and shoved it into his mouth whole. It wasn't dry like the ones Mrs. Figg made him eat, and he had eaten three of them in about twenty seconds.

"I guess he wasn't lying, either," said Barbara, grinning. She was wearing a tight pink shirt, loose denim overalls, and tennis shoes, a far cry from her red skirtsuit and matching heels; her dark hair was styled into two French braids. She looked a lot younger than she had the Thursday before last. She walked over and gave Harry a tight hug.

The last woman who had ever hugged Harry was his mother, and he couldn't remember that, so this might as well have been the first. He caught a whiff of strong lavender perfume and strawberry-scented shampoo, and he was still coughing as she let go. Barbara asked him what grade he was going into.

"Sixth," said Harry, hoping Barbara thought he was coughing only because he was getting over the flu. From her look of poorly disguised surprise, he could tell she thought he was younger than that, so he asked, "How old are you?"

"I just turned twenty-four last February," she replied, smiling at him.

"Really," said Harry. "I could have sworn you were just out of high school."

"Thanks!" Barbara beamed. "I get that a lot."

Harry couldn't like Barbara, even though she liked him. Maybe it was just because he didn't really want to share Sirius with anybody right now. She was definitely too young to be his mother or his aunt, but probably too old to be his sister. Maybe he could just think of her as an older cousin, albeit one who was not much less annoying than Dudley.

"By the way, I picked up this little gift for you," said Sirius, reaching into his pocket. Harry knew it was charmed to hold much more than a regular pocket should hold. "It's nothing much, but I thought you might like it…"

"Goodness gracious!" Barbara shrieked, as Sirius clasped the necklace around her neck. "Are those _real_ pearls? You didn't have to do this!"

"Oh, but I wanted to," said Sirius, and Harry frowned.

"By the way…" Barbara flopped down onto the couch. "Mr. Glacier says that he'll be able to set up a court date by the end of July. So you and Harry should be discussing Harry's plans to move in."

"That's great news," Sirius replied, looking at Harry, who nodded and smiled. Soon he would be living with Sirius.

Barbara sat down on the couch next to Sirius, and Harry sat down on Sirius's other side. As the TV droned on, Barbara leaned into Sirius, and he asked her what it was like working for Mr. Glacier.

"It's nice," said Barbara. "My mother doesn't approve, though. I don't think she thinks I can look after myself. She's always telling me I should just marry into money and start a family…But I keep telling her, if I _do_ marry, I want it to be for love."

"I can understand that," said Sirius, smiling. Harry figured that if Barbara was saying this, Sirius hadn't told her he was rich. That was confusing, because he thought Sirius would have used this to impress her.

Barbara watched TV with them for a while, and then she cooked them a late lunch, which redeemed her a bit in Harry's eyes—she was a fantastic cook. She whipped up a heavenly meatloaf, of which Harry had three slices, as well as mouth-watering, lump-free mashed potatoes. For dessert, she baked them a chocolate cake from scratch, right down to the icing.

After lunch Barbara said she really must be going.

"I'll walk you to your car," Sirius offered. Barbara smiled, took her hand in his, and they walked out the front door.

Harry went back to the table to get another piece of cake. Sirius was taking a long time, though, so he went to go look out the window to see what he was doing. And…why was he surprised? Sirius was passionately snogging Barbara, gently pushing her back onto the hood of her red car. It seemed like forever until they finally stopped. Sirius held the car door open for Barbara, and Harry quickly darted away from the window.

Sirius walked in moments later, his eyes a little overbright. Harry pretended he hadn't seen anything.

"So, let me get this straight, Sirius," he said. "You _haven't_ let on that you're rich?"

"I didn't think it was necessary to mention it." Sirius shrugged. "Besides…would she really believe me if I did tell her that? My flat is a right hole in the wall. We went to her place the Saturday before last, and of course she cooked us dinner…I didn't know you could cook a meal that delicious without magic. I offered to do the dishes—she couldn't figure out how I finished cleaning so fast. I was also able to Apparate to the bakery the next morning, to get us bagels for breakfast."

"So if you did marry her, would you be allowed to tell her you were a wizard?" Harry asked.

"Yes, as long as she didn't tell anyone," Sirius replied. "Usually we aren't allowed to let the Muggles know of our existence, but if you're married to one you're allowed to tell them your true identity. I would be allowed to hook up Barbara's fireplace to the Floo network, and I could practice magic in our household, as well as teach any children about our world—although our children wouldn't be allowed to tell their Muggle friends about their unusual father."

"If you had a baby, would it be a wizard baby?" asked Harry curiously.

"Probably," said Sirius. "If a Muggle has a child with someone who carries a magic gene, ninety percent of the time the child will inherit a normal, working magic gene and be classified as either a Muggle-born or a half-blood, depending on the magical parent's blood status. If not, the child will most likely be born a Muggle and that's that. The third thing that could happen is that the child will inherit the magic gene, but it won't work—that's what a Squib is, and that has nothing to do with one parent being a Muggle, anyway. Squibs are really rare, though. You only get about two or three of them every seven generations."

"So how do you know all this?" said Harry.

"Regulus and I had to learn Wizarding Geneology before we went to Hogwarts," Sirius explained. "I'm sure you know by now that my family placed a lot of emphasis on the purity of blood. It was a lot simpler for me—just marry a pureblood woman and have a pureblood baby. It isn't so different for women, either. Two of my cousins, Narcissa and Bellatrix, were married with dowries to two important Wizarding families, Malfoy and Lestrange, respectively. But the third, Andromeda, ran off with a Muggle-born named Ted Tonks. So they disowned her. She was a bit like Barbara, I suppose…she wanted to marry for love, not money, status or blood purity. Lucius and Rodolphus were both filthy rich, of course."

"Is everyone in the Wizarding world so hung up on this blood stuff?" Harry asked worriedly.

"Luckily, no," Sirius said calmly. "Those who do are just clinging onto a time that's long gone. If you meet someone like that, you should just ignore them. Old blood is counting for less everywhere. What matters is your magical ability, and your blood status doesn't make a difference at all. For example…Lily was a very powerful witch, and her parents were Muggles."

"But don't kids from Wizarding families like yours get a head start?"

"Not really," said Sirius. "Some magic is harder than others. You're not going to be conjuring stuff out of midair your first day of school, you know. Besides, no witch or wizard is allowed to buy a wand before their eleventh birthday. So even though we purebloods witness more magic growing up, that doesn't mean we'll be any better at it. And like I said, my parents mostly used Dark Magic in front of me and Regulus, so that didn't help us at school. Hogwarts doesn't teach Dark Magic, just regular, non-Dark subjects. They tell you everything you need in your school letter."

"I thought I would be getting mine by now, though," said Harry wistfully.

"Well, you can never predict exactly when—" Sirius was cut off when they heard a sharp tapping on the living room window. Harry was confused at what he saw, but Sirius's face broke into a wide grin. There, beating its wings to stay airborne, was a large barn owl, a heavy parchment-paper envelope tied to its leg.


	12. Diagon Alley

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: For future reference, yes, I am aware that Malfoy got his robes, Hagrid got the Sorcerer's Stone out of Vault 713, and Quirrell was in the Leaky Cauldron on July 31, not July 15, but I've tweaked that for the sake of the story. Hope you don't mind too much.**

 **Thank each and every one of you for all your kind reviews, faves and follows! I can't tell you how much I appreciate it. :) It's your support that fuels my creative spirit!**

…

Sirius walked over to the living room window and yanked it open. Inside the owl flew, and Sirius detached the letter.

"Stay here," Sirius told the owl politely. "I'm going to need you soon."

Harry looked down at the letter in shock. It was addressed to him, in emerald-green ink:

 _Mr_. _H_. _Potter_

 _The Smallest Bedroom_

 _4 Privet Drive_

 _Little Whinging_

 _Surrey_

"Go on," said Sirius, who looked excited, his grin as wide as ever. "Open it."

HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY

Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE

( _Order of Merlin_ , _First Class_ , _Grand Sorc_., _Chf_. _Warlock_ , _Supreme Mugwump_ , _International Confed_. _of Wizards_ )—

"Hey!" said Harry. "Dumbledore!"

"Yeah, he's the Headmaster," said Sirius, who still looked annoyed at the mention of Dumbledore, and nudged Harry to read on.

 _Dear Mr_. _Potter_ ,

 _We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_. _Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment_. _Term begins on September 1_. _We await your owl by no later than July 31_.

 _Yours Sincerely_ ,

 _Minerva McGonagall_

 _Deputy Headmistress_

"Wait does it mean, they await my owl?" Harry asked.

"Return owl." Sirius conjured a scrap of paper out of midair, along with a quill pen and some ink. Harry wondered why he wasn't writing with a ballpoint pen, because he was sure people stopped writing with quill pens and ink bottles centuries ago. Harry watched what he was writing:

 _Dear Professor McGonagall_ ,

 _My godson_ , _Harry_ , _has received his letter and will be boarding the school train September 1_. _I will escort him there_. _Good to hear from you again_.

 _With all due respect_ ,

 _Sirius Orion Black_

Sirius tied this scrap of paper to the owl's leg. After nibbling a little at one of Barbara's brownies, it gave a loud hoot and flew out the window again. When he noticed Harry staring, he laughed.

"I thought you said you communicate with the fireplace," said Harry.

"The Floo network is something akin to your telephone," Sirius explained. "But when it comes to mail, instead of using a mailman, we use owls. Maybe we can get you one when we go to Diagon Alley today."

"We're going to—"

"We need to get your school supplies, don't we?" Sirius stood up, grinned, and pulled Harry up with him. "We can take the motorcycle. We're going to have to stop at Gringotts, though. You're going to need more money, and I need to make a withdrawal, too—that necklace I bought for Barbara cost me all of my spare Galleons. Of course, I bought it at a Muggle fine jewelry store, so I had to change money too…right pain in the neck, that is…I would have made a withdrawal when I was changing money, but I was kind of distracted, trying to figure out what I should get her."

"How did you decide?" asked Harry, as they walked through the foyer and out the front door. It was a hot, hot day.

"Well, let me give you some advice that will come in quite handy later in life," said Sirius, putting his arm around Harry. "Let's say it's cold outside, and you think your girlfriend could really do with something to keep her warm. So on Valentine's Day, what do you buy for her?"

"I don't know…an electric blanket?"

"Wrong," said Sirius. "The worst thing you can ever buy for a woman is something practical. What you buy for her is, a solid gold locket with her initials engraved on it with diamonds on the edges, a big box of chocolate, and of course a thoughtful card." Sirius paused. "But don't worry, you're too young for a girlfriend."

Most of what Harry had seen in terms of relationships came from TV, and the rest of it came from the sparks he had witnessed between his godfather and Mr. Glacier's secretary. Truthfully, he had never been able to see what the point of a relationship _was_ , and as for Sirius and Barbara kissing earlier that day, he couldn't fathom what on Earth could make you want to do that in broad daylight on the hood of a car. It sounded a little boring—weird, maybe—but not romantic.

"I don't need one anyway," said Harry. Sirius just laughed and climbed onto the motorcycle, patting the back for Harry to climb on as well.

…

Once they reached London, Harry tried to prepare himself for his paparazzi as they walked to the Leaky Cauldron. When they walked inside, it was similar to last time. Nobody could get enough of Harry. Just as Harry was awkwardly shaking the hand of someone named Doris Crockford, as Sirius tapped his foot impatiently in the background, they were approached by a nervous-looking, pale young man, one of whose eyes was twitching.

"Ah, Quirinus," said Sirius, waving. "Harry, this is Professor Quirinus Quirrell. He'll be one of your teachers at Hogwarts."

Quirrell gripped Harry's hand and stammered about how pleased he was to meet him. He had a very bad stutter.

"What sort of magic do you teach, Professor Quirrell?" Harry asked politely.

"D-Defense Against the D-D-Dark Arts." Professor Quirrell looked scared of his own subject. With a nervous laugh he added, "N-not that you n-need it, eh, P-P-Potter? You'll be getting all your equipment, I suppose? I've g-got to p-pick up a new b-book on vampires, m-myself."

"Sounds interesting," said Sirius, winking, although Quirrell looked frightened.

"B-But I m-m-might be s-seeing you soon, S-Sirius," Quirrell added.

"Why?" asked Harry.

But before their conversation could continue, Harry was mobbed by more fans. After ten minutes they were able to get out of the Leaky Cauldron and into Diagon Alley again. Harry was glad, because this time they could explore the shops. But they had to stop again at Gringotts first, so Harry and Sirius could make withdrawals. Gringotts was absolutely packed.

"Loads of students have just gotten their Hogwarts letters, remember," said Sirius in a low voice. "So all the Muggle-born students are changing their money, and then the Wizarding kids are making withdrawals…they need all hands on deck this time of year."

Harry and Sirius were stuck in line behind the largest person Harry had ever seen.

"Who's that?" Harry whispered.

"Hagrid," Sirius explained. "He's the groundskeeper at Hogwarts."

Harry listened once he heard Dumbledore's name again. Hagrid handed the goblin a letter, and asked about something in Vault 713. The goblin read the letter, then another goblin took Hagrid down into the tunnels to get it.

"What do you suppose it is?" Harry asked as they approached the counter.

"Well, whatever it is, if Hagrid's retrieving it, that means it's going to Hogwarts," Sirius replied shrewdly. "So it must be either very valuable or very dangerous. Possibly both."

Harry's vault was one floor above Sirius's, so they reached that one first. Harry gathered up some more money, enough for his first school year at Hogwarts, then it was back in the cart and down to Vault 711—the Black family vault, now Sirius's, as he was the last Black left.

Vault 711 was guarded by, to Harry's shock, a dragon.

"Down, Bessie," said the goblin in a bored voice, and the dragon stood aside.

"Why is your vault guarded by a dragon?" Harry asked.

"It's a high-security vault," said their goblin escort. "If any of our vaults contain over two million Galleons, they are required to be guarded by a dragon."

Sirius used his key to unlock his vault's door, and Harry followed him inside. It was much, much larger than Vault 687—bigger than Harry's bedroom—and it was crammed to bursting with money, piled into every nook and cranny. Sirius hastily grabbed some gold, a lot of it, and stuffed it into his enchanted pockets. Harry had the feeling he didn't want to stay there for very long. On his way out he gave the dragon a pat.

"See you, Bessie," he said. Harry remembered what Sirius had told him about having a connection with animals that most humans did not.

When they were out of Gringotts, Harry carrying his money bag, swinging it back and forth in the sunshine, they wondered where to go first. Finally, Sirius suggested getting Harry an early birthday present.

"Oh no, Sirius, no," said Harry, his face feeling hot. "You've done so much for me already—"

"So you'd rather not I get you that racing broom?" Sirius grinned and pointed to a store called Quality Quidditch Supplies. "That's the Nimbus Two Thousand, fastest broom there is. I remember James came to school his first year with a 1971 Cleansweep…Of course, something like that would belong in a museum now."

Harry was looking at his school supplies list. "It says you're not supposed to have a broom if you're a first year."

"Yes, he was determined to be the youngest Chaser in eighty years," said Sirius. "Of course he didn't get onto the Gryffindor team until second year, though, nobody does. But you can practice on this one, and use it for tryouts next year."

"Well…okay." Harry smiled. "Thanks."

"Right, so I'll buy the Nimbus while you go and get your uniform, all right?" said Sirius, pointing to a nearby store called Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. Harry nodded and they parted ways, Sirius heading for the Quidditch supplies store, Harry entering the robes shop.

"Hogwarts, dear?" said Madam Malkin, before Harry could speak. "Got the lot here—another young man being fitted up just now, in fact."

The other young man being fitted up had white-blonde hair and a pale, pointed face. Another witch was pinning up his long black robes. Harry was stood on a stool next to him while Madam Malkin pinned up Harry's robes.

"Hello," said the boy. "Hogwarts, too?"

"Yes," said Harry.

"My father's next door buying my books and mother's up the street looking at wands," said the boy in a bored, drawling voice. "Then I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don't see why first years can't have their own. I think I'll bully father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow. Have _you_ got your own broom?"

Harry remembered what Sirius was buying for him right now, and replied, "Yes, the Nimbus Two Thousand."

"I play Quidditch too," said the boy (Harry got the feeling that he was trying to disguise the fact that he was impressed). "Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree. Know what house you'll be in yet?"

"Gryffindor, like my dad, and his dad before him," said Harry. The boy made a disparaging sound at the mention of Gryffindor, so Harry said indignantly, "What's wrong with Gryffindor?"

"All _our_ family have been in Slytherin," said the boy proudly.

"Well, just because your family was all in Slytherin doesn't mean you will be, too," said Harry, remembering Sirius.

"I don't know where else I _would_ go," said the boy. "None of the others sound very appealing. I mean, we went over Gryffindor—and Ravenclaw, they're a bunch of nerds—and Hufflepuffs are all such losers—who are you waving at? Is that your father?"

Harry was waving at Sirius, who was standing by the front window, carrying a long, slim package that could only contain the new Nimbus Two Thousand. For some reason, though, he wasn't waving back. Instead, he was scowling.

"No, that's my godfather," said Harry.

"Why is he with you?" sneered the boy. "Where are your parents?"

"They're dead," Harry told him.

"Oh, sorry," said the boy, although he didn't sound it. "But they were _our_ kind, weren't they?"

"They were a witch and wizard, if that's what you mean."

"I really don't think they should let the other sort in, do you? They're just not the same, they've never been brought up to know our ways. Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families—"

"Why should they?" Harry interrupted, bristling, trying to remember what Sirius had told him. "Old blood doesn't matter anymore. What matters is your magical ability. My mother was Muggle-born, and she was just as good as any pureblood."

The boy scowled.

"Oh really? What's your surname?" he demanded.

But before Harry could say "Potter", Madam Malkin said, "That's you done, my dear," and Harry, with his new school uniform, rushed outside to Sirius, who grabbed his shoulder.

"What were you doing, talking to Lucius Malfoy's son?" Sirius hissed. "I don't want you mixing with people like that!"

"M-Malfoy?" said Harry. "You mean, the family your cousin married into?"

"The very same!" Sirius said angrily. "I've never met the boy, but I could tell just by looking at him. He's the picture of his father, right down to that awful sneer. Don't go hanging around with him at school. I mean it."

"Trust me, I won't," said Harry. "He was very rude—and he said people from Muggle families shouldn't be allowed to go to Hogwarts."

"Of course he did," Sirius growled. "Narcissa married out of one snobby, prejudiced family right into the next!"

Harry could tell this was a touchy subject for Sirius. Sometimes he wondered if his godfather still longed for a normal childhood, the likes of which he had never really gotten to experience.

"Sirius," said Harry. "If you grew up in a household full of, you know, bad Dark wizards…why did you turn out, y'know, normal?"

"To this day I don't know," said Sirius, sticking his hands into his pockets. "For a long time I thought I was the one who wasn't normal. Remember, I didn't really know anything else. The first eleven years of my life revolved around lessons and social gatherings. The only time I was really allowed to leave the manor was when we were visiting someone _else's_ manor, and that was never very fun. Dark Magic was just…well, that was what my life was. In fact, my first memory, one of my worst…my father's anniversary gift for my mother that year."

"What was it?" Harry asked, and Sirius's expression darkened.

"He'd been down Knockturn Alley again," Sirius said venomously. "So for my mother's anniversary gift, he bought her this special rope that would strangle anyone who held it unless they were a pureblood. Do you remember the way Barbara reacted when I got her those pearls? Well, that was how my mother reacted to _her_ gift. But I remember just being horrified. I was only four or five, remember…So they were laughing and trying to decide where to hang it, and what could I do? I just sat in the corner and cried. I knew in my heart that what I was seeing was wrong. I didn't want to eat dinner that night but I had to because we were having Aunt Elladora over, and then they all got drunk and tried to do this horrible ritual to bring an old house-elf back to life. Luckily they were too drunk for it to actually work, but still…That night I wanted to get rid of the rope, but I was afraid it would strangle me too because even though I was a pureblood, I didn't feel like one.

"That's what I thought it was for a long time—fear. You know, I figured I was just afraid of all the Dark objects my father bought and these rituals they tried to do. But then I realized that it wasn't fear…it was disgust. Most kids run towards their fathers when they come home—well, I ran away, because I always knew what would happen next…" Sirius put on a high, simpering voice. "'Oh, Orion, what have you got now? What does this one do?' It was the role that had been neatly carved out for me. I was supposed to be a Dark wizard, and _that's_ what scared me. I didn't know what my problem was. I couldn't understand why I found all this horrible when everyone else I knew took pride in it, celebrated it. But I couldn't voice these opinions I had, or, well, you know what would happen, I'd just get hit.

"But then I got to go to Hogwarts, and it was like being born again. I finally realized that, like you said, it was my family who had the problem, not me. There was a name for what I was—a blood traitor—and I liked it, became proud of it. Plenty of people thought the way I did, that everyone was equal. I found my true family in Gryffindor House…and especially in James. I asked him why I'd never met him if he was a pureblood, and he said the other pureblood families didn't like his family because, like me, they were against the Dark Arts and blood purity. James hated the Dark Arts just as much as I did, maybe even more. Five years later I ran away from home and moved in with James, and that's when it all finally stopped."

Harry was in shock at Sirius's story; he was trying to think of something to say when Sirius added, "But…I'm not trying to make you feel sorry for me. That's the past. Here—do you want to hold your racing broom?"

"Sure," said Harry, feeling a little more cheerful at the thought. He shouldered the broom and they walked on through Diagon Alley, getting Harry's books at a shop called Flourish and Blotts. Harry got stuck on a book full of curses.

Sirius snapped his fingers. "What are you doing?"

"I was trying to find out how to curse Dudley," Harry explained.

"Great, but you're not supposed to use magic in the Muggle world," Sirius told him.

"You used magic to clean Barbara's dishes," Harry pointed out.

"That was different," said Sirius. "I just wanted to get it over with quicker."

"What was the big hurry?" Harry demanded. "I've cleaned the dishes without magic _loads_ of times before—"

"The hurry is that all these shops are going to be closing soon," Sirius said strictly, "so you'd better just focus on your books."

Once they were done in Flourish and Blotts, they headed to the Apothecary to buy Harry's ingredients for Potions class. Then they visited Eyelops Owl Emporium, where Harry bought a beautiful large snowy white owl. She was sleeping, head under her wing, in her cage, as Harry and Sirius emerged from the store.

"Looks like we only have my wand left," Harry observed, looking at his school list. Getting a magic wand had been what he had been looking forward to most.

When they entered Ollivander's, the wand shop, it reminded Harry of his school library, where the teachers always shushed students who talked. All of a sudden he had a lot more questions, but he felt like he should keep his mouth shut. Sirius sat down on one spindly chair to wait.

"Good afternoon," said a soft voice from somewhere behind Harry. It was an old man, with wide, shining pale eyes.

"Hello," said Harry awkwardly.

Mr. Ollivander moved closely to Harry, and started telling him about the wands his mother and father had bought. Apparently, Mr. Ollivander didn't understand personal space, because he was standing very close, so close that Harry could see his reflection in the old man's eyes.

"And that's where…" Mr. Ollivander touched Harry's lightning scar (again, he seemed to have no sense of personal space at all). "I'm sorry to say I sold the wand that did it. Thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands…well, if I'd known what that wand was going out into the world to do…"

"It's the wizard who does the dirty work, not the wand," said Sirius from the chair.

"Sirius Black," said the man mysteriously, gesturing to Sirius. "It wasn't long ago since you were in here, was it? Got to get a new wand after they broke your old one in half…It was quite an improvement. Mahogany. Twelve inches. An unusual core—one hair from a hippogriff's tail. Of course I remember your first wand, too…Birch, ten inches, dragon heartstring. Both wands excellent for nonverbal magic, of course."

After he was done talking to Sirius, it was time for Mr. Ollivander to find Harry's wand.

As the minutes passed, Harry felt like he had waved every wand in the shop. Mr. Ollivander seemed to know, somehow, when the wand wasn't right, but Harry was starting to doubt that they would find one that _was_ right. Finally, Mr. Ollivander had Harry try a wand that was made of holly and eleven inches long. The core was a phoenix feather.

And this wand was different. When Harry waved this new wand, he felt a warmth in his fingers, and red and gold sparks shot out of the tip.

"That's it!" Sirius said happily. "That's the one!"

"Oh, bravo!" Mr. Ollivander cried. "Yes, indeed, oh, very good. Well, well, well…how curious…how very curious…"

"Sorry, but what's curious?" asked Harry.

"I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Potter," Mr. Ollivander replied, staring at Harry with his pale eyes. "Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand gave another feather—just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother—why, its brother gave you that scar."

Harry swallowed.

"Yes, thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember…I think we must expect great things from you, Mr. Potter…After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things—terrible, yes, but great."

"You mean, like murdering Harry's parents?" Sirius interrupted. "I'm sure he appreciates you mentioning it."

After that the two of them were both a little eager to get out of there. Harry paid seven Galleons for the wand and they left.


	13. The Problem With Formal Wear

Sirius had been busy for the past few days; he had been getting everything in order for the court date (Mr. Glacier was still trying to set up the day). Harry had also heard that if he wanted to settle against his relatives, he would need to prove that he had been abused, which (according to Mr. Glacier) meant that he would need a physical and psychiatric exam. He had been trying not to think about this, especially not the physical, as he had never been to visit the doctor. Well, he supposed he had been with his parents as a baby, but he couldn't remember that.

Dudley brought his annoying friends over every day, so Harry did what he could to stay out of the house during the day. There was a playpark nearby that he could walk to. It looked like it was about as old as Sirius, and therefore not very safe, but the kids who went to the playground always looked like they had fun. Harry didn't know why he watched the families, but he did.

One young mother was leaning down at the bottom of a rickety aluminum slide, her knees almost touching the cement.

"Come on, sweetie, Mummy will catch you," she said gently.

There was a little girl at the top of the slide, looking nervous; she couldn't have been much older than three. At her mother's encouragement, she slid down the slide and into the woman's arms. Her mother gave her a tender kiss on the head.

Harry looked away from them, tears burning in the corners of his eyes, his heart aching for a mother's love. If Voldemort had not murdered his parents, would that have been him, sliding down a slide into Lily's arms?

The sun began to sink low behind the trees. Many of the parents packed up their things to leave. Harry supposed they were going home for—

"Dinner!" Harry moaned, nearly falling off the swing. "Oh, no! I forgot!"

Harry ran home from the playpark at top speed, wondering how he could have been so stupid. Sirius had owled him just yesterday morning—they were going to be having dinner with Barbara and her parents tonight, as well as an old school friend of Sirius's (Harry couldn't remember the name). Sirius was supposed to pick Harry up at 7:30, and it was already ten after!

Feeling the beginnings of panic, Harry rushed upstairs and hopped in the shower, washing his hair as quickly as he could (he hadn't had a shower in a few days, so this was definitely a must if he was going out to a fancy dinner). Perhaps he should wear cologne? But he didn't have cologne…he didn't even have deodorant. Dudley didn't either. Uncle Vernon had cologne, but there was no way Harry was going to wear THAT. So he bagged the cologne idea, put on his old dressing gown and entered his room. But what should he wear?

Oh yes! Sirius had rented him a juniors' tuxedo. But where was it? Harry hunted around in his room until he found the tuxedo in a shopping bag near the back of his closet. Unfortunately, he had never worn one of these before, and it was much more complicated than any outfit ever should be—

"Harry?"

 _7:25_ , said the clock on Harry's nightstand. Sirius was here!

"Hang on!" Harry cried, panicking and slamming his room door shut. Sirius would definitely be angry that Harry had forgotten about dinner! After all Sirius had done for him, he couldn't even be ready for dinner in time!

Harry managed to get his tuxedo pants on, and then the shirt, but (as much as he hated to admit it) after that he was kind of lost. He could no sooner tie the bowtie than he could translate one of his new textbooks into Japanese, and he didn't know when to button what or how he should use the cufflinks or how he could adjust the pants, which were too big in the waist. _7:28_ , said the clock.

"We've got to go, Harry!" called Sirius. "What're you doing up there?"

"Nothing! Everything's fine!" yelled Harry, just as he lost his balance and crashed into his wardrobe, knocking it over as he tried to pull on a sock and tuck in his shirt at the same time. "Ow…"

"What was that? Are you all right? I'm coming up!"

"NO!" Harry screamed. He shook his head to try to get some of the water out of his sopping wet hair, but all that did was make him dizzy. Unfortunately, that was when the doorknob turned and Sirius was standing in the doorway, mouth open in surprise.

Harry felt even scruffier in comparison to his godfather. Sirius was wearing his black tuxedo perfectly; his long hair was combed, gelled and tied into a tasteful ponytail with a small silk red ribbon. Usually when it came to shaving he wasn't exactly on top of things—more often than not, he was sporting a few days' worth of stubble—but he had definitely had a fresh shave today, and it looked quite different. He was the picture of grace.

"Straight out of GQ, aren't you?" said Sirius with a smirk. He used his wand to get the wardrobe off of Harry, then walked over to help him up.

"I'm ready," said Harry unconvincingly.

"Uh-huh," said Sirius. Harry thought his godfather would be angry, but on the contrary, he looked as if he was having a very hard time trying not to laugh. "Forgot about dinner, did you?"

"Yeah," Harry admitted. "I'm sorry."

"It's all right," said Sirius. "At least you washed your hair."

Sirius put his wand to Harry's temple and Harry felt for a minute as if his head was about to catch fire; then the sensation stopped, and when Harry reached up to push his bangs out of his eyes, he realized that his hair was dry.

"Thanks," said Harry. "I was afraid I would have to use Aunt Petunia's blow dryer."

"Her what?"

"Never mind," said Harry quickly. Swallowing his pride, he added, "D'you—d'you think you could help me put this thing on?"

"Of course I will," said Sirius. "But first, I picked something up for you on my way over here. Old Spice."

"Bearglove?" Harry asked, holding the antiperspirant in his hands.

"It commands grizzly-bear-level respect," Sirius explained. "Just put it on every morning before you get dressed, that's all. Okay, now, let's see…"

After Harry put on the Old Spice and set it down on his nightstand, Sirius helped him with the tuxedo. Well, more like Sirius bent down and started fastening and tying and adjusting and buttoning, while Harry just stood there waiting. Halfway through he got a glimpse of himself in his mirror. It wasn't encouraging. Why had he agreed to dinner? Suddenly all he wanted to do was eat a solitary dinner and spend the evening reading one of his new textbooks in his room.

"Sirius," he said dejectedly, "take back the suit. It's hopeless."

"Phooey," said Sirius, who was now working on fitting Harry's waistcoat.

"It's not phooey!" Harry protested. "I look so stupid."

"Where's your self-confidence?" said Sirius strictly.

Just then, Dudley burst into the room, wearing blue pajamas with clouds on them.

"Trying to look fancy?" he sneered.

"Well, if we were, you wouldn't be helping," Harry said back.

"Suspenders!" Dudley chortled. "You look like a sixty-year-old man with those!"

"Once you put the suit jacket on, you can't even see them!" Sirius snapped.

"I think you're going to have to try a little harder," said Dudley. "Harry can wear a suit, but he'll still be a skinny little loser with bad hair."

"Be on your way! NOW!" Sirius shouted, and used his wand to blast a hole in the wall. Dudley gave a shriek of fright and went tearing off to his room. He was so fat that the floor shook.

"Whatever self-confidence I had left just got flushed down the toilet," said Harry glumly.

"Don't listen to him, Prongslet," said Sirius, turning Harry around to look in the mirror. By now, he had everything on except the suit jacket. "You look great, just like your dad."

"But my Aunt Marge said that Dudley was a healthy-sized boy, and that I had a mean, runty look," said Harry in a slightly higher-pitched voice.

"Dudley is a lot of things," said Sirius, picking the suit jacket up off the floor, "but a healthy-sized boy is _not_ one of them."

"What about me?" asked Harry.

"Well, not exactly," Sirius told him, "but it's not your fault you were malnourished. We'll build you up while we've got the chance. We can ask the doctor."

"Oh, don't talk about that, Sirius," said Harry miserably. "Do I _have_ to go?"

"It's just what Mr. Glacier told us we had to do, that's all," Sirius said. "I know you've never been to the doctor's office that you can remember, but it's not that scary. I promise."

Sirius helped Harry put on the tuxedo jacket and adjusted the lapels. Harry may not have looked perfect, but this was definitely a better look than before.

"Just one question," said Harry. "How do you know how to wear this thing if you don't normally wear, y'know, Muggle clothing?"

"I own this tuxedo." Sirius gestured to his own. "I used to wear it on dates with women, and it's the one I wore to your parents' wedding. I had to get it taken in once I got out of Azkaban, seeing as I'd lost quite a bit of weight in there, but it's still as good as ever. The cuff links belonged to my father. They were supposed to go to my brother Regulus, but since he's passed on, they're mine now."

Sirius showed Harry his emerald cuff links. One had a snake engraved in it; the other had the letter "B". Sirius had also bought Harry some Old Spice spray-on cologne.

"Put on the antiperspirant every morning like I told you, but you don't need to wear the cologne during the school day," Sirius said. "You can save it for special events like this. Don't go crazy either—just spray it behind your ears and on your wrists like this—"

Harry coughed when Sirius sprayed him with the cologne.

"There," said Sirius proudly, turning Harry around to face his mirror. "You're ready. Now remember, what's the one thing you never leave home without?"

"Your wand?" Harry said, starting to feel nervous. He didn't recognize himself in the mirror.

"Well, yes, but I was talking about self-confidence," Sirius told him. "Don't let the Muggles get to you."

"I'm just worried I'm going to do something stupid and make a fool out of myself," Harry told Sirius, turning sideways in the mirror.

"It'll be fine," said Sirius. "Just have fun and remember your self-confidence."

"You're sure it's going to be okay?"

"I'm sure," Sirius replied. "Now grab my arm…We're going to Apparate to London."


	14. Dinner

Harry did not like Apparition at all. Of course, he knew that teleportation was faster, and that taking the motorcycle would cause the wind to mess their hair and clothing up, but still, it had been awful. When it was finally over, Harry fell to his knees on the sidewalk and vomited into the street. Once he was done Sirius helped him up and handed him a handkerchief—once Harry was finished with it, Sirius banished it as quickly as he had conjured it.

"Don't worry," said Sirius. "Most people throw up when they first Apparate, especially if they're only ten. I'm sure you'll be doing it yourself one day."

Harry was going to tell Sirius that he doubted this, when he heard another voice call out, "Looks like someone just Apparated for the first time, I see, huh, Padfoot?"

"Moony!" said Sirius, opening his arms in greeting, and he embraced the man who had called to the two of them. "Have you met my godson, Harry?"

Harry stood up and looked at Moony. He looked to be about Sirius's age, although his hair was prematurely gray and his eyes had bags underneath, like he hadn't gotten a good sleep last night. Just like Sirius and Harry, he was wearing a nice tuxedo.

"I have," said Moony. "Although how he has grown! Nice to see you again, Harry. You do resemble James, just like Sirius told me."

"Thanks," Harry said, smiling a little. "So you're Moony?"

"That's my nickname," he said. "My real name is Remus Lupin, but you can call me Remus. Sirius was kind enough to pay for my rental tuxedo. I did have to look my best tonight."

"Not a problem at all, Moony, old friend," Sirius replied warmly.

"I see you bothered to comb your hair and shave," said Remus. "What's gotten into you?"

"Well, I'm sure Barbara doesn't want to get scratched when she kisses me tonight." Sirius winked. "Although she doesn't mind that five o'clock shadow look, either."

"That's just sheer laziness on your part," Remus said jokingly. "I don't know how you stand it, anyway. It itches like mad."

"Like you said," Sirius replied, "I'm just too lazy to pick up a razor more than three or four times a week."

"When is Barbara coming?" Harry interrupted.

"Our reservation is for eight," said Remus.

"That reminds me…" Sirius turned to Remus. "What am I supposed to do when her parents ask me what I do for a living? If I tell them I don't work, they'll just think I'm a bum. Barbara says her mother wants her to marry into money. Plus, her father's a cop, so I probably shouldn't mention I was in prison for ten years."

"You should just lie and tell them you have a job that earns a lot of money," Harry suggested. "Not a doctor, though. Because you never know when someone will have a heart attack or something in the restaurant and you'll have to save them."

"What are the chances of that happening?" said Sirius.

"I've seen it on TV," said Harry. "Whenever a bloke lies and tells a girl he's a doctor, another diner always has some sort of medical emergency. She expects him to save the day, and he can't."

"You can't trust everything you see on TV, Harry," Remus told him. "Sirius, I think you should tell Barbara's parents the truth. Lying to her parents won't impress her, and they'll find out the truth eventually."

"Good point, Moony," said Sirius. "Okay…I'll just tell them I come from old money. I'm sure they'll like those words."

Harry's stomach grumbled; he wished Barbara would turn up soon. Finally, around 7:50, she did, along with two people who could only have been her parents.

"Remember, gentlemen, no magic," said Remus sternly, "as they are Muggles."

"Oh yes, I almost forgot!" Sirius waved his wand, and a bouquet of buttercups erupted out of the end of his wand.

"I never understood how you were able to do that," Remus said. "I can only do roses. James could only do roses and, of course, lilies."

"For the longest time, he _could_ only do roses." Sirius grinned. "But he wanted to do lilies so bad that he made me work with him until he could. I've used this spell so many times—I think that's why I can do any flower I like."

"What do you think, Harry?" said Remus, smiling. "Will buttercups do?"

"I-I don't know," said Harry, taken aback—he couldn't help remembering Sirius's advice about gifts, and he wondered if this was another test. "I guess."

"Well, let's go, then." Sirius led the way; Harry followed, with Remus bringing up the rear, and they approached Barbara and her family. Harry expected Barbara and her mother to both be wearing the sort of dress Aunt Petunia wore to Uncle Vernon's work parties.

He was half-right.

Barbara's mother, a severe-looking woman with short blonde hair and thick glasses, was wearing a flowery, long-sleeved dress that wouldn't have looked out of place in Aunt Petunia's closet at all. Barbara, on the other hand, was wearing something that Harry had never seen his aunt wear, nor would he ever, _ever_ want to. Short, strapless, and form-fitting, it was the smallest cocktail dress he had ever seen. She had matching glittering red high heels, and her dark hair was piled up on top of her head. Around her neck was Sirius's expensive pearl necklace.

"Sirius!" Barbara called. "Over here!"

"Barbara," said Sirius, walking over to her. "How beautiful you look tonight."

"And you look ever so handsome," she replied.

"Thank you," said Sirius, kissing her full on the lips. Once they broke apart, Barbara noticed Harry and Remus.

"Aw, you brought Harvey!" she squealed. "Come give me a hug!"

"It's Harry," said Harry, but his voice was muffled as she hugged him tightly. She was wearing far too much perfume again; Harry was relieved when she let him go.

"That's what I said," Barbara replied airily, her hazel eyes back on Sirius.

"Barbara," said Remus, approaching her and bending down to kiss her hand. "It's so nice to finally meet you in person. I've heard so much about you."

"Only good things, I hope!" Barbara giggled. "Would you three like to meet my family?"

"We'd be delighted," said Sirius. Remus nodded, and a disgruntled Harry followed.

"Sirius, Remus, Harry—these are my parents, Robert and Gwendolyn," Barbara said happily. "They're glad to meet my new boyfriend!"

Robert glared at Sirius upon the word "boyfriend." Sirius shrugged.

"Well…shall we go inside the restaurant?" Remus suggested, looking at his watch. "Our reservation is for eight."

"Let's," said Gwendolyn stiffly, and the others followed her lead. Once they were seated, they had to order their drinks. Harry realized he was the only one at the table who wasn't old enough to drink. The only alcoholic drink he had ever tasted was butterbeer, and that didn't really count.

"I'm going to order the '74," said Robert haughtily. "You, Gwen?"

"I think I'll just have a strawberry margarita," said Barbara's mother.

"Same," said Barbara.

"Appletini for me," added Remus.

"What sort of man orders an appletini?" said Robert.

"Daddy!" said Barbara, looking scandalized. "Siri, baby, what are you going to order?"

 _Siri?!_ Harry thought, feeling like he might throw up again.

"My favorite," Sirius replied, grinning. "The Singapore Sling."

"Oh, Sirius, honestly…" Remus rolled his eyes. "Can't you just order wine like everybody else?"

"Where's the fun in that?" said Sirius. Remus looked exasperated, but Barbara looked more infatuated than ever.

"I love a man who is bold and impulsive," she cooed dreamily, clinging tight to his arm.

"Then you'll _love_ him," said Remus, drier than dry, and Sirius laughed.

Harry was sitting next to Sirius and Barbara was on his other side. Remus and Barbara's parents were sitting across from them. Harry wished Remus would switch seats with Barbara.

"Remember when I turned eighteen, and all four of us went to a bar, but I was the only one old enough to drink?" said Sirius fondly. "You know, it's strange…if this had been America, Mr. Prongslet here would have been born before Mr. Prongs and Mrs. Flower were even old enough to drink."

"Mrs. Flower," said Remus. "Well, that was better than what you two used to say—what was it? 'Code Red'?"

"So clever." Sirius smirked. "I came up with that one."

"Mr. Padfoot told Mr. Prongslet that Mrs. Flower said she wouldn't date Mr. Prongs if it was a choice between him and a giant squid," Harry supplied, and Sirius nearly fell off his chair laughing. Even Remus had to smile a little at that.

"What's with all the nicknames?" Barbara asked curiously.

"Just my friends' nicknames for each other at school," Sirius explained, smiling at her. "Do you want a nickname? I mean, Harry's mother got one. Mrs. Flower—Lily."

"Oh, I see," said Barbara. "But I can't think of a clever nickname…"

Even though he didn't particularly like Barbara, Harry did like her brownies, so he raised his hand and offered his suggestion.

"Mr. Prongslet volunteers the name Miss Delicious Chocolate Powdered-Sugar-Frosted Brownie," said Harry. "Miss Brownie for short."

"Moony, Brownie, Padfoot, and Prongslet," said Sirius. "Got it."

"Everyone loves my grandmother's recipe," said Robert proudly. "Now where's that waiter?"

…

Once everyone had ordered their alcohol (except of course Harry, who just got water), they were forced to make common chit-chat again. Just as Sirius, Remus and Harry thought, the topic soon turned to jobs.

"So, Mr. Black," said Robert shrewdly. "What do you do for a living?"

"Er…" Sirius glanced at Remus, who nodded firmly. "Um, nothing. I don't work."

"You don't work?" said Robert critically. "How did you afford that necklace if you don't work? Did you steal it?"

"Daddy!" said Barbara again, but he ignored her.

"I have to say, he cleans up quite nicely," said Gwendolyn, raising an eyebrow. "But what was it you were saying about leather jackets and a motorcycle?"

"Siri does drive a motorcycle," Barbara said lovingly. "But his jackets are pleather, not leather. He's a friend of the animals."

"It's true," said Sirius.

Just then the waiter came by with the drinks. Robert didn't seem too happy with his drink.

"I asked for the '74!" he barked. "You got me the '73! The '74 is a great wine! The '73 is absolute sewage! Why would you bring me sewage?"

"Terribly sorry, sir," said the waiter, snatching the '73 back to replace it.

"Anyway," Robert said, turning his attention back to Sirius, "what do you mean, you don't work?"

"What I mean is, I don't _need_ to work," said Sirius, who was trying not to get angry. "I'm an _heir_. I come from old money. Neither of my parents needed to work, either."

"Oh," said Gwendolyn, who looked pleasantly surprised. Barbara looked surprised too. Harry remembered how Sirius hadn't told her he was rich.

"So you're saying that if my little Barbara got married to you, she wouldn't have to be a secretary anymore?" Robert asked Sirius.

" _Daddy!"_ Barbara squealed for the third time.

"Why, yes, I suppose so…" Sirius tugged a little at his collar. "Hey, look, it's your '74."

"Wonderful," said Robert, reaching out for the wine.

"Well, bottoms up!" said Sirius happily, taking a long sip out of his Singapore Sling.

…

They all ordered delicious food. Harry got a hamburger, and so did Sirius (he may have been a friend of the animals, but that didn't extend as far as his taste in food). Barbara had pasta and both her parents had lobsters. Remus filled up on appetizers.

Harry was slightly concerned, because Sirius had knocked back four Singapore Slings in the space of two hours and had become quite raucous. Barbara was also possibly drunk as she had consumed three margaritas. Harry was chomping on his hamburger and sipping water. Remus had stopped after one appletini, and he was watching Sirius and Barbara warily.

"You two might need to call a cab home," Remus said to Harry quietly. "Or else he'll Splinch himself for sure."

"What's that?" Harry whispered.

"When Apparition goes horribly wrong," Remus whispered back. "You can get torn apart, and the Accidental Magical Reversal Squad has to come fix you."

Harry figured it was all right that Remus spoke about magic as long as it was in an undertone, seeing as Barbara's parents weren't listening and Barbara herself was too drunk to notice anything except Sirius, to whom she had become even more attached.

"Mr. Padfoot presents his compliments to Miss Brownie," Sirius was saying to Barbara, his voice slurred due to his four gin cocktails, "and would like to invite her back to his place tonight—"

"No!" Remus snapped. "Barbara is going home with her parents! You're supposed to take Harry back to Little Whinging, remember?"

"Ah, yes, Harry," said Sirius, turning his focus to his godson. "How you doin', mate?"

"I'm fine," said Harry. "But I think you're drunk, Sirius—and so is Barbara."

"Me? Drunk? Nah!" Barbara giggled; she even came dangerously close to toppling over onto the floor.

"Waiter!" Sirius called. "One more round!"

"Yes!" Barbara shrieked. "One more round!"

"NO!" Remus shouted. "You both have had enough!"

"Blimey, Moony, I'll tell you when I've had enough!" Sirius barked. "WAITER!"

Harry glanced over at Barbara's parents to see how they were reacting to all this. Robert looked too horrified to move, much less speak, but Gwendolyn looked strangely calm. Harry wondered if it had anything to do with Sirius's revelation that he was, in fact, a wealthy heir.

Sirius had another Singapore Sling and Barbara had half another margarita. Robert picked up the tab, and they had to literally pry their daughter off of Sirius, because she was not willing to let go. Sirius seemed disappointed that she couldn't go home with him.

"BYE, SIRI!" she screamed to the night air as her father dragged her by her elbow to the car.

"I was going to Apparate home, but first I'll escort you home and Sirius back to his flat," Remus told Harry. "You know, I'm starting to wonder if maybe that's why he invited me. I've been the Designated Apparator before. I don't drink too much, you see…I've found it rather clouds the mind."

"I'm going to have to agree with you on that," said Harry, watching Sirius.

"Are you sure you're okay with Apparating home again?" Remus asked. "You threw up last time."

"I'll be fine," Harry told him. Remus nodded; he grabbed Sirius's arm with his right arm, Harry's with his left, and—one very uncomfortable but instantaneous journey later—they were back at Number Four, Privet Drive.

"G'night, Prongslet," Sirius mumbled, giving Harry a drunken but affectionate hug. "Better be off now, it's past your bedtime…"

"It's past yours, too, Mr. Padfoot," said Remus, grinning ruefully.

"I don't have a bedtime," Sirius was saying, and then—with a sound like a car backfiring—the two of them disappeared.

Harry, meanwhile, went up to bed like Sirius asked. It was a lot easier getting the tuxedo off than it was getting it on. Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia and Dudley were all asleep. Harry wondered…Barbara's family definitely wanted Barbara to marry Sirius now, because he was rich. But did they want to marry each other? They seemed so crazy about each other, yet Sirius always insisted that there was nothing serious going on between them.

In a few weeks, Harry would be moving in with Sirius. If Sirius married Barbara, surely she would move in with them too. Hopefully they would tone down the PDA for Harry's sake, because he found it a bit disturbing.

The image of the woman at the park and her little girl floated forcibly to the surface of his mind. What if Barbara had a baby?! That would be crazy. It would probably be a magical baby, like Sirius said! Harry wouldn't mind a girl, but a boy would be the best…It would be like having a little brother, and Harry had never had any siblings…But he wouldn't be like Dudley. No, he would be the best big brother ever. Perhaps Sirius would name the baby James, after Harry's father…Harry and James…and once James was a toddler Harry could teach him everything he knew, teach him the names of plants and animals and clouds and trees…Maybe even some spells, because he would be an upperclassman at Hogwarts by then!

 _Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if they married_ , Harry thought, and he slept well that night.


	15. The Secret-Keeper

Harry was alone the next day, Thursday, as Sirius was sleeping off a hangover, although he did get an owl—all Sirius had been able to do, headachey and nauseous, was just one pawprint on a piece of parchment folded over. Harry still liked it, and he hung it up in his room.

Friday was when Sirius and Remus came to call.

"Hello, Harry," said Remus, smiling, as Sirius bent down to hug Harry. Sirius's hair was untidy again and he looked like he hadn't had a shave since Wednesday's dinner date. But that was the combination of scratchy stubble, Old Spice and very thin but strong arms that Harry had come to associate with Sirius's hugs, and he wouldn't have it any other way.

"Nice to see you," Harry replied—and then, like on TV, "What can I do you for?"

"We had some important things to discuss," Sirius replied. "First of all…I want to apologize for whatever happened Wednesday night. I don't remember it all that well, but Remus says I rather overdid it on the gin cocktails."

"I told him he should set a better example," said Remus.

"Don't worry," said Harry, grinning. "Thanks to Sirius, I know _definitely_ not to get that drunk."

"Yeah, Remus," Sirius added. "I may not be a great example, but I am a terrible warning, at least."

"Well, I suppose I can't argue with that." Remus sighed, but smiled. "Sirius, you said you needed to ask me a big favor?"

"Yes…let's sit down," said Sirius, gesturing to the couch. They did, and he continued, "Mr. Glacier called yesterday. He told me he was able to set up a court date for this Wednesday, which means I most likely will be moving in with Harry."

"Wonderful, but what does that have to do with me?" asked Remus.

"Dumbledore said that part of the reason he put Harry here with the Muggles is so Death Eaters wouldn't be able to find him," Sirius explained. "So now that Harry will be living with me, he might be less safe from that threat. But if nobody could find us but you, it wouldn't be a problem…Hear what I'm saying?"

"Oh yes." Remus nodded. "I understand."

"So what do you say?"

"What do I say?" Remus smiled warmly. "I'd be honored, Sirius."

"Thanks, mate," said Sirius, and they embraced. Harry, however, was confused.

"What are you two talking about?" he asked.

"Harry, do you know what a Secret-Keeper is?" Remus asked.

"No…I don't think so," said Harry. Very vaguely, he remembered Sirius mentioning it to the goblin at Gringotts, but he hadn't understood from the conversation what it actually was. All Sirius had said was that he would have been the worst pick for Secret-Keeper—too obvious…

"It's a very complicated spell, also known as the Fidelius Charm," Sirius told him. "It involves the concealment of a secret inside one person—this person is known as the Secret-Keeper. Unless the Secret-Keeper tells the secret, nobody but them can ever find out the secret. So if Remus was our Secret-Keeper, no Death Eaters could ever find us. Even if they walked right into our house and we were sitting on the couch, they would see the room as empty. Or…something like that."

"The point is, while I'm your Secret-Keeper, no one with bad intent can find you unless I tell them," said Remus, "and I won't."

"Not even Dumbledore," said Sirius. "Just in case he gets any ideas. You know, he wasn't so happy about Harry moving in with me."

"I won't tell anyone unless you wish me to tell them," said Remus evenly.

"Okay," said Sirius. "You can tell Barbara, so she can come visit us."

"No," said Harry, before he could stop himself, "don't!"

"What?" said Sirius, looking surprised.

"It's…it's not safe," said Harry, feeling worried. He didn't want Sirius to know he didn't like Barbara, but he didn't want Remus to tell her where they lived, either.

"I think it's very safe, seeing as she's a Muggle," said Sirius, but Harry noticed Remus was frowning.

"Would you mind getting us some drinks, Harry?" Remus asked.

Harry knew that when adults sent you to get something, they just wanted you out of the room. So he nodded and left without asking Sirius and Remus what drinks they wanted. When he got to the kitchen, though, instead of getting the drinks, he listened at the door.

"I am not telling that girl a thing," Remus was saying firmly. "Sirius, can't you see what's going on?"

"What do you mean?" Sirius demanded.

"Haven't you matured at _all_ , Sirius?" Remus snapped. "I know how you operate! As soon as you start to get in deep, you're going to go running off with your tail between your legs, like you do every single time!"

"Remus, give Barbara a chance! She's a delightful person!"

"Oh really?" said Remus in a steely voice. "What's her last name?"

"Well, it's—" There was a pause. "Look, surnames aren't as important in the Muggle world!"

"And that too! What is this thing you have for Muggle women? I always thought you were doing it to spite your mother—"

"Don't mention my mother!"

"When are you going to grow up?" Remus said back. "Your focus should be on Harry right now! I know it was lonely in Azkaban—but you didn't have to go out and get another playmate!"

"Another _what?"_

"You heard me! She's just another girl who fell for your looks and charm, and you damn well know it. I know _exactly_ what holds the relationship together, Sirius—and you can't keep doing this! You're not seventeen anymore! What you have to do is love a girl for who she is on the inside—and I don't know if you're capable of even doing that."

"I am _not_ that shallow!" Sirius protested.

Remus gave a derisive snort. "If you weren't shallow, you would have had a relationship in school that lasted more than six months."

Harry stuck his head into the living room where the two adults were talking. It looked like Remus had made Sirius feel a little ashamed of himself.

"Look, Remus, I can't," he said, almost helplessly. "I never could. I don't know why. I'll meet this girl I really like…and she likes me…and everything's fine. It's all wonderful. But then there comes that time where you have to talk about where…"

"Where the relationship is going," said Remus.

Harry was by now very confused by their conversation and by the look on Sirius's face. When Sirius was with Harry he always protected him and never let anything hurt him. Harry always felt safer when Sirius was around. But now Sirius looked like he was the one who needed some help.

"Right," said Sirius. "But I don't _know_ , Moony. I just don't know what it was that stopped me. There would be this wonderful, sweet, pretty girl—and then things just fall apart. I'm like one of those toxic men."

"No, you're not." Remus both looked and sounded as though he was choosing his words very carefully. "Do you think…do you think perhaps you were just afraid of getting hurt?"

There was a very long pause; Sirius stared at the ground, and Remus put one hand on his shoulder. Harry could not have taken his eyes off the two of them if he tried.

"Why would I be afraid of getting hurt?" said Sirius finally, still not looking up.

"Because you _have_ been hurt, Sirius," Remus told him. "You know what I'm talking about, don't you?"

Harry thought for a minute that Remus was talking about Sirius losing James and Lily—but that couldn't be, because apparently Sirius had been flighty in relationships long before that…

"Yeah, I do," Sirius admitted, and Remus seemed melancholy. "But I've already sworn to myself I would never become my mother. I'll _never_ treat Harry the way she treated me. I'm his only chance at a relatively normal childhood, after all."

"I knew all that, Sirius," Remus said delicately. "I know you'll never be anything like her. But ever since James told me about your parents, I knew why you always went for girls like Barbara—girls who weren't interested in meaningful relationships with you. It's because…well, because that's what you're used to. If your mother never loved you—how could any other woman? I'm just seeing the same pattern as when we were in school, and I'm worried."

"That can't possibly be correct," Sirius told him. "I'll be fine—"

"Barbara isn't good for you, and I don't think she's good for Harry, either," Remus interrupted. "I'm sure being in a relationship that's stable and meaningful will freak you out. But you'll be better off for it. Just get off this ride before it crashes like the others do."

"I'll think about it," said Sirius reluctantly. "But that breakup will likely seem out of nowhere."

"Just tell her it's because of your new job, remember?" said Remus. "But I can't say it now, because it looks like we've got an eavesdropper."

Harry had been caught. But he didn't want Sirius to know what he'd heard.

"I wasn't eavesdropping," he lied. "All I heard was that Sirius has a new job. Why does he need a new job if he's so rich?"

"It's a surprise," said Remus, and he smiled.

"Nobody ever tells me anything," mumbled Harry, and he went to get the drinks.


	16. Sleepover

The next day, Saturday afternoon, Sirius came over to the Dursleys' house. It was his idea to look at flat listings in the paper, but unfortunately, Dudley's friends were hanging about. Harry wanted Sirius to scare them away, but Sirius said he couldn't.

"It's okay if Dudley sees me do magic, because he knows about the magical world already," Sirius explained. "But his friends can't. That's why we have to resort to legal action against your relatives and not just curse them."

"Let the justice system take its course," said Harry, quoting something he'd seen on TV, but (even though he hadn't told this to Sirius) he was actually dreading the court date. He wasn't dreading living with Sirius, of course—he was looking forward to that. But still…he had never appeared in court before. The only time he had ever seen a judicial court was on the crime dramas that Uncle Vernon liked to watch (he also enjoyed bellowing to the TV what he in particular thought the criminals' punishments should be). It looked like a very frightening environment. What if the court decided Sirius wasn't a good enough godfather, and they sent Harry back to the Dursleys? Harry wished he could just skip the court date and go straight to living with Sirius.

When Harry was contemplating this, Piers Polkiss tore through the living room, screaming loudly. Dudley lumbered after him, making the living room shake so much that Harry's glasses slipped down his nose.

"How are we going to look at flat listings in this?" Sirius said irritably.

"Well…we could always go to _your_ flat," suggested Harry. "I mean, the one you have now."

"Are you sure?" Sirius asked cautiously. "It's not exactly a five-star hotel. If I knew you were coming I would've cleaned up a bit, but on no notice, it's really a dump…"

"Anywhere is better than here," said Harry. "Besides, who cares how disgusting your flat is? _You_ live there, and that makes it good."

"Thanks," said Sirius, grinning. "You know, you can spend the night if you want. Just get your overnight bag packed and I can carry it in my pocket."

"You—oh, right," said Harry, remembering Sirius's enchanted pockets. As usual when he was about in the Muggle world, Sirius was wearing his biker gear. His leather jacket was old and probably from the seventies. The only indication that he _might_ be a member of the magical community was his dragon-hide boots, and you could really only tell if you were looking for them.

Harry didn't have an overnight bag, so he took his empty schoolbag and stuffed some clothes and his toothbrush into it. When Sirius wasn't looking, Harry packed his Prongs toy as well, since it would be his very first night away from home. Sirius fitted the bag into his pocket, right amongst his wallet and keys, and they headed for the flying motorcycle, which as usual was parked outside the Dursleys' house. Harry was glad they didn't have to Apparate again.

It was always fun riding on the motorcycle, and it never seemed to last long enough for Harry. It was about half-past four in the afternoon when they reached the city Harry now knew to be London. Sirius flew downwards; they were completely invisible, flying just a couple of inches above the cars on the street. Harry knew they would have been jealous; traffic was horrific. Finally, Sirius reached a large apartment complex and touched down in the parking lot, then turned off the Invisibility Booster.

"Here we are," he said grandly. "My designated parking space. I had to pay out my ass for it, but it's impossible to find parking otherwise—and nobody knows how to drive downtown anyway. Do Muggles take several brain cells out of their heads before they get in their cars or something?"

"That's just how it gets when traffic is this thick," said Harry, gesturing to the bumper-to-bumper traffic jam in the city streets. There was an abundance of road rage. Harry didn't like road rage; it was what Uncle Vernon had. So he wanted to get into the flat before he had to hear any more of it.

"This is a Muggle-owned complex, so I can't do any magic until I get to my flat," Sirius explained. "When my parents were still alive—before I inherited my family fortune—I got a fair amount of gold from my Uncle Alphard, and I was able to stretch those Galleons because I prefer to live very frugally. I suppose I don't really need to, but my childhood taught me that gold can't buy happiness. Anyway, I used it to rent a flat here. They put my old junk in storage when I was incarcerated but I recently got the key to the storage unit where they were keeping everything—it's still in there now so we can move the stuff we want to keep into our new flat. That's where I found your Prongs toy and the photo."

The two of them went inside. There was an oddly-shaped white fountain made of cement, but it wasn't spouting any water.

"Is it broken?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, and it has been since 1979," said Sirius.

Sirius checked his mailbox, which was in the front lobby; then they walked to the elevators that took them all the way to the seventh floor, which was where Sirius lived. The hallways reeked of cigarette smoke. Harry coughed and tried not to breathe in; after the "Just Don't" unit in his elementary school class last year, he knew that even second-hand smoke was dangerous.

Finally, they reached the end of a long, smoky hallway. Sirius unlocked the heavy brown door to his flat, and he and Harry stepped inside.

There were three rooms: the kitchen, the small bathroom and a room that looked sort of like a drawing room and a bedroom had a baby together—and then that baby threw up. The furniture consisted of a bookshelf, a nightstand and a small bed, but Sirius's clothes were scattered all over the floor. When Harry walked in the kitchen, the floor was sticky, and there was an unpleasant smell wafting from the sink, where there were loads of dirty dishes and silverware, stacked alarmingly high. The closet was a mess, and the bathroom sink was littered with small hairs from when Sirius had shaved. On the top of the toilet and on the sink, Sirius had piled the sorts of things Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia stowed in cabinets and drawers and behind mirrors—his Old Spice, loads of hair-care potions, Wizarding "Special Effects" bubble bath, foaming hand soap, dental hygiene products, hair gel, razor and the can of shaving cream, which had been haphazardly knocked to the floor. At least Harry liked the wastebasket, which belched up things you threw into it; the shower curtain, which changed colors; and the bathroom mirror, which he could have sworn he heard laughing at him.

"I know it's not much," said Sirius, looking embarrassed that he hadn't known Harry would be coming over and therefore couldn't be bothered to pick up his dirty underwear off the floor.

"Are you kidding? It's _great!"_ Harry flopped back on the bed. "Aunt Petunia would have a heart attack if she ever saw this place!"

Thanks to Aunt Petunia's constant, obsessive cleaning, the Dursleys' house was immaculate enough for a surgical procedure, so the messiness of Sirius's bachelor pad was actually something of a relief for Harry, a welcome change of pace. He felt that if Sirius's flat had been too clean, perhaps he would have felt a little uncomfortable there.

"I only have to withdraw 165 Galleons, 15 Sickles and 20 Knuts per month, then I change it into cash and give it to my landlord." Sirius grinned and took off his leather jacket, which he then automatically tossed onto his nightstand (Harry saw how he could easily lose track of his messy clothes).

"You can use your Gringotts checkbook now, though," said Harry. "When your next payment is due, just write out a check for whatever the rent is. That's how Muggles do it."

"They always give me five C notes for the rent at Gringotts," said Sirius.

"Then write out a check for 500 pounds. It'll be easier for both you and him."

"How about I get us started on some hot chocolate, and then we can look at the listings?" Sirius suggested. "Maybe later I can take you out to dinner."

"I have an even better idea, and a cheaper one, too," said Harry, grinning. "Let's order in."

"Wait, let's order what?" Sirius looked, again, confused.

"Muggles can order food to come to their houses using the telephone," Harry explained. "I know you don't have a phone but I saw a pay phone in the lobby."

"Good thing I always carry Muggle money around," said Sirius, handing Harry a twenty-pound note.

"And yet you haven't got the vaguest idea of how much anything costs in the Muggle world," Harry laughed. "I just need a couple of coins. You can pay the pizza guy with the rest."

Sirius handed Harry the change he had (although he had a bit of a struggle when picking the Muggle coins apart from the bronze Knuts). Harry went down to the lobby and ordered a pepperoni-and-sausage pizza, cinnamon sticks and two large sodas. The pizza place told him they would be at the flat by five-thirty. Harry ran upstairs and told Sirius the pizza would be here soon, along with the cinnamon sticks and the sodas.

"Good," said Sirius. "I'm getting hungry."

"Hmm…have _you_ ever been on a sleepover before?" Harry asked. "Because I haven't."

"Well, for seven years I shared a dorm with James, Remus, and Peter Pettigrew, the betrayer," Sirius reminded him. "So it was like one big sleepover every night. The older dorms have four beds, and the newer ones have five. They might have gotten rid of the older dorms by now, but there was a fair amount left in the seventies. It was fine as long as we were together, though. And if we got a dorm with only four beds, which we did, we didn't have to worry about some stranger sharing with us."

"So what do you _do_ on a sleepover?"

"Lots of stuff," said Sirius, "from eating raw cookie dough to telling scary stories, but Truth or Dare is the best. One time I dared James to sniff Snape's school sweater for five full seconds, and another time he dared me to jump into the Black Lake naked in the middle of January. I also hear Marlene McKinnon was dared to either kiss Peter or lick the toilet. She licked the toilet. Of course, this was the girls' toilets, which meant it hadn't reached toxic levels."

"I'd rather look at the flat listings," Harry told him, imagining how a game like that could get out of hand.

Sirius nodded and Summoned the newspaper. The two of them sat side-by-side on Sirius's bed.

"Here you go," said Sirius. "Now, you should definitely get your own room, so we should only look at ones that are two-bedroom. Or maybe three, so we have a guest room."

"How's this?" said Harry, pointing to one of the ads. "Two bed, one half-bath, one kitchenette."

"I think I can afford to raise the rent, now that I've got you living with me," Sirius pointed out. "Here's a better one. Two bed, one full bath, one kitchenette, one drawing room. That would be nice—and I promise I'll try to keep it tidy."

"Or even better—" Harry pointed. "Three bed, one full bath, one half-bath, one kitchenette, one drawing room."

"Hmm…the rent is 2500 pounds per month," said Sirius, noticing the ad and grinning. "I think we can manage that, especially now that I can just write out a check instead of withdrawing cash every month. I'm sure writing a check will be much less of a hassle."

They were interrupted by a knock on their door. Sirius opened it, and there was a scrawny, acne-ridden pizza guy standing at the doorway.

"That'll be 14.41," he said nasally.

"Hang on," Harry said politely. "My godfather's foreign; I need to help him out with the British money."

Sirius carried Muggle money around with him in case he needed it, but he didn't understand the value of it or what anything cost. What he had to pay for their dinner was actually only around four Galleons, but since he didn't get Muggle money, Harry and Sirius had agreed to just tell everyone that Sirius was "foreign".

"Does he speak English?" the pizza guy demanded.

"Um, no," said Harry (earlier, Sirius had tried to imitate the accents of all the other English-speaking countries, but without much success, so they decided he was a hopeless case). With a lot of help from Harry, Sirius worked out the tip and counted out the right amount of cash. Finally, Sirius handed the money and the tip to the pizza guy, gesturing wildly. Harry tried not to laugh.

"Weirdos," the pizza guy muttered. Sirius shut the door behind him, and they started laughing again.

Harry opened the pizza and got out the first hot slice while Sirius cut the advertisement for the new flat out of the newspaper and pinned it to his bulletin board. Then he went and got some pizza of his own. For dessert, they inhaled their cinnamon sticks, which were delicious, and gulped down the biggest cans of pop they had ever seen.

Later that night Harry got to take a bubble bath. As he walked into the bathroom, eyes on the fluffy towel (which had the initials _S.B._ on it), Sirius gestured to his various hair potions and bubbles and said, "You can use any of these."

"Thanks," said Harry, and he didn't mind using a lot, once he finished off a delicious-smelling strawberry-scented hair potion and found that it refilled itself instantly. He filled the bath with all kinds of bubbles and experimented with the different hair potions, wondering if they would actually ever do anything for his hair. He even got the shaving cream, and although he felt childish doing it, he had never actually played with shaving cream in the bath before, and, well, Sirius _had_ said he could use anything he wanted. So he sprayed the stone wall of the bathroom with shaving cream and sprayed it all over his face too and in the water, and among the hair potions and Special Effects bubbles, the bath was quite fun. Harry had to admit that he was acting like he was seven years old instead of almost eleven, but nobody had to know, and he had never really gotten to act like a kid for real, so why not do it now?

When Harry had finally gotten out, cleaned up the walls, put all the bottles and cans back, dried off with the Towel of Extreme Fluffiness (especially compared to the squalid state of the rest of the flat) and put on his pajamas, he found Sirius's hair gel and put it in his hair, trying to figure out a way to possibly get his hair to lie flat…It seemed that although the hair potions had made his hair smooth and good-smelling, it was still messy, and not to mention wet. So he rubbed in more of the gel, but it seemed to only be making things worse. He was concentrating very hard on finding the right method, so he jumped when he heard Sirius hammering on the door.

"What're you doing in there?" Sirius yelled.

"Trust me, you don't want to know," Harry said quietly; then he called through the door, "Hang on!"

Well, his hair looked positively dreadful now…but he couldn't let Sirius know that he had used the gel, could he? It wasn't as if he wasn't allowed, but that was too embarrassing. Harry turned on the sink and ran his hair under the water, trying to get the gel out, even though it was very uncomfortable for his neck.

"Hurry up!" Sirius hollered. "I've gotta pee!"

"Sorry!" said Harry frantically, trying to wash out the gel. But it was just no use. There was no way he was ever going to get this out. Already, he could feel the gel congealing. So he opened the door and stepped out, lifting his bangs up so he could see, smelling strongly of bubble bath and feeling foolish.

"Those sodas, you know," Sirius said quickly, running in and slamming the door. He was already wearing flannel pajama pants and an old T-shirt that read "FBI"—which didn't make much sense, considering the FBI was an American thing.

When Sirius was finished up in there, Harry was still bending backwards over the sink, trying to rinse the gel out.

"What are you up to?" said Sirius, walking into the sticky-floored kitchen.

There was only one thing for it…

"I put too much gel in my hair," Harry admitted. "Can you help me get it out?"

"Sure," said Sirius, leaning Harry's head back and running it over the sink. "You know, after watching James do this sort of thing for ten years straight, I can tell you that you'll have better luck taming a Hungarian Horntail than you will taming your hair. Just let it do what it wants."

…

It wasn't long before Sirius and Harry both decided it was time for lights-out (metaphorically, of course, since Sirius didn't have much of an understanding of the concept of electricity). Sirius insisted that Harry take the bed, while he conjured up a squashy purple sleeping bag for himself on the floor. Harry got into bed. The bed was softer than his room back home, but it was a lot different than sleeping in the suburbs.

In the suburbs, it was so quiet at night, punctuated only by the chirping of crickets during the summer, or maybe the howl of a snowstorm during winter. Here, the steady rhythm of trains and buses and cars and sirens never seemed to stop. Instead of being pitch-black, there were bright lights everywhere, so that Harry had to shut the shades. In the city, you couldn't see the stars. Perhaps you could see the moon, guardian of the night, rising above the towering buildings.

Harry waited until Sirius was asleep, then crept over to his school bag and grabbed his Prongs toy. It was good at helping him go to sleep as well. When he got back into bed and closed his eyes, he found the noise a bit relaxing; when it was too quiet, sometimes that could be a bit disconcerting. It was not long after this revelation that Harry found himself drifting off…

" **NO! NO! PUT IT AWAY!** _ **PUT IT AWAY!"**_

Harry was awakened by Sirius screaming in his sleep like he was being attacked. Still a little out-of-it, he peered over the edge of the bed and said, "Sirius?"

" **WHAT—NO, STOP, STOP! LEAVE ME ALONE!"**

"Sirius, wake up! You're dreaming!" Harry shouted; he was quite sure what Sirius was dreaming about, too. The dementors of Azkaban would probably make anyone scream like that.

" **ARRRRRRRRRRRGHHHHHHH! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"**

Sirius finally woke up, wide-eyed and tousle-haired, face covered in sweat. Harry, feeling quite frightened, looked over at him.

"Are you all right, Sirius?" he asked shakily. "What were you dreaming of?"

"Never you mind," said Sirius stiffly, turning back over and promptly falling back asleep.


	17. Apology

The next day when Harry woke up, his Prongs toy was clutched tightly in his arms and there was an extra blanket thrown over him, decorated with the Gryffindor lion. The sleeping bag on the floor was Banished and the shower was running in the bathroom, so he knew Sirius must already be up.

Harry climbed out of bed and got dressed. By the time Sirius walked out of the bathroom, wearing a midnight-blue wool dressing gown, Harry was wandering around the kitchen, looking for breakfast.

"Ah! Look who's up," said Sirius, pressing his wand to his right temple; his hair dried instantly. "Don't eat breakfast. I was thinking we could go out for brunch—there's this great place a couple blocks away that has the _best_ mozzarella sticks and milkshakes."

"Sounds good," said Harry, shutting the cabinet door (he had been about to grab a box of cereal).

"Listen…" Sirius sat down on his bed and sighed. "I'm sorry I forgot to warn you about my night terrors."

"That's okay. I get them too sometimes," Harry replied, although he doubted his nightmares were ever as loud or as violent as Sirius's were. "Besides, Azkaban is enough to give anyone night terrors, I'll bet."

"Yeah," said Sirius as Harry joined him on the bed. "That's what it sounds like in there. Lots of the prisoners scream in their sleep…sometimes it's about the crimes they've committed, or about Voldemort, or all manner of other things."

"Wow," said Harry quietly. "That's really bad compared to Muggle prisons."

…

Once Sirius was all dressed and ready, the two of them set out for the fast-food place Sirius had mentioned. They got the biggest order of mozzarella sticks, and they each got a chocolate shake. Harry's was heavenly; it had whipped cream and a cherry on top. In addition to these things he also had a great hamburger.

"Okay, we are _definitely_ going there again," said Harry, taking another slurp of his milkshake.

"I take it you liked the food, then," said Sirius, grinning.

They took the motorcycle back to the Dursleys' house, where Sirius agreed to stay and watch TV with Harry for a little bit. Harry didn't want him to leave, even though it may be less than a week before they moved in together for good…finally…after all this time! But it wasn't long before the doorbell rang.

"Oh my God!" said Sirius, when he opened the door.

Barbara was standing there on the porch, with her parents, Gwendolyn and Robert. The parents were looking embarrassed, and Barbara was looking stern.

"My parents have something to say to you, don't you, Mum and Dad?" she said harshly.

"Yes," Gwendolyn began. "I support you dating my daughter…"

"And?" Barbara demanded.

"And I would support it even if you owned nothing but a cardboard box," Gwendolyn finished, hanging her head.

"What about you, Dad?" Barbara crossed her arms.

"I'm sorry for bothering you about your job, mate," said Robert, and then he pulled out some money. "This is for the bloke who likes the appletinis. Tell him the next one's on me."

The two of them left.

"I confronted them the next day, as soon as my hangover wore off," Barbara told Sirius. "They embarrassed me so much. I hope you don't hold it against me or anything."

"No…" said Sirius. "No, of course not…"

Barbara hugged him gently and whispered, "Thanks."

"You're welcome," said Sirius.

"And you, Harry," Barbara added, after she broke her hug with Sirius. To Harry's surprise, she got down on her knees to be eye-level with him (although since was rather short, Harry was now looking down at her), and set her hands on his shoulders. "I'm sorry for calling you by the wrong name. I guess I was just distracted by your godfather's good looks." She paused and frowned a little. "That didn't sound too good either, did it? I guess there's no excuse, really. I'm sorry, and I do hope you can forgive me."

She held out one of her neon-pink manicured hands to Harry. It felt to him like she wasn't just trying to apologize for calling him Harvey, but for all the times she'd gotten on his nerves. So he took her hand, albeit hesitantly. It was warm and soft, not rough like Sirius's.

"Erm…that's okay," he told her.

"I'll be seeing you, then," said Barbara, hoisting herself up. She kissed Sirius on the cheek and walked out the door to the car, where her parents were waiting for her. Sirius sat down on the couch and beckoned for Harry to sit down next to him.

"I want you to be honest with me, Harry," said Sirius. "What do you think of Barbara?"

"Oh, um…" Harry bit his lip. Sirius asked him to be honest, but Sirius wouldn't like his answer.

"It's okay," said Sirius. "You can tell me. I swear I won't get angry."

"All right, then." Harry sighed and looked away from Sirius. "I…I don't really like her. I don't know why. Maybe it's because I don't really like when she hugs me. Or because she wears too much lavender perfume. Or maybe it's because I don't…because I don't…"

Harry bit his lip. All those things were superficial. Barbara hadn't hugged him this time, after all, and he could get Sirius to tactfully tell her about the perfume. Harry felt like he knew the real reason for not liking Barbara so much.

"Because you don't what?"

"Because I don't want to share you," Harry said sadly. "I know it's really selfish…"

"No, it's not." Sirius smiled weakly. "Haven't you heard of 'mates before dates' before?"

"I don't think so."

"It just means that you should always put your best friends first, before a girl," Sirius explained. "Of course, it's best if the girl _is_ your friend. But that isn't always the case, you'll find."

"Oh, I see," said Harry. "But what about you and Barbara?"

"Remus was probably right," Sirius told him glumly. "Maybe I'm not in a position to date at all. I think I need some time to figure out what I want…not see any women until I really know what I want in a relationship...I'll break up with Barbara after the court date, I guess."

Sirius said all this with the facial expression of a man trying to pass a kidney stone the size of a watermelon.

"You know what?" Harry sighed, after a long pause. "Just…just go with her, Sirius. Give your relationship another chance."

"No, Harry," Sirius said firmly. "I want to do what makes you happy."

"Well, I want you to stay with the woman who makes you happy," Harry told him, smiling. "Because you being happy is what would make me happy."

"Oh, Harry, mate," said Sirius rather tearfully, catching Harry in a rib-crushing hug. "You really are your father's son, you know that?"

"Thanks," said Harry, hugging him back. "Just promise me one thing, though."

"Anything for you mate, anything," Sirius mumbled.

"Do what Remus said, and talk to her about where your relationship is headed, okay?" said Harry pleadingly, after the two of them separated. "Do _that_ after the court date."

"Blimey, I hate that Talk," said Sirius, his head in his hands.

"Don't turn into a chicken, Sirius," said Harry firmly. "Do it for me. And if she decides she doesn't want to be in…in a meaningful relationship with you…just don't stay with her. Because you deserve better than that."

"Well…okay." Sirius sighed. "I'll talk to her after her work on Thursday."


	18. Eleven

It was Tuesday, July 30, 1991. Tomorrow was the court date. Harry was so scared and nervous just thinking about it. Then there were all the things they had to do afterwards, mostly his physical and psychiatric exams…By now he was having nightmares about those, partly because of what he had glimpsed of the hospital dramas Aunt Petunia liked to watch.

The most recent episode had involved a criminal with an irregular heartbeat getting tasered right in the emergency room, and (incredibly) the shock from the taser had set his heartbeat straight again. Now Harry was having nightmares of being tasered in an emergency room, and then having a heart attack and dying. He was also terrified of what he thought the psychiatrist would be like; his other nightmares involved lying down on a couch and having to spill out his darkest secrets to someone he didn't even know.

Harry knew Sirius was coming over to visit on Tuesday, so he was waiting there on the couch for him. As usual on the days when they had been forewarned about Sirius (who plain stark terrified them), the Muggles had gone out for the day. Harry didn't turn on the TV, though—he was just curled up on the couch, visions of the court date and his court-ordered evaluations dancing in his head.

 _Click_. The door to the Dursleys' house swung magically open, and there was Sirius.

"Are you all right, Harry?" he asked.

"Yeah," said Harry unconvincingly. It didn't help that he had brought his Prongs toy downstairs with him and had forgotten to take it upstairs before Sirius arrived. He had taken to retrieving it whenever he felt lonely or scared or upset, and he found that it helped a lot. But he was not a child anymore, so it was quite embarrassing to him as well.

"Look, don't worry about the court date tomorrow," said Sirius, sitting down next to Harry and putting an arm around him. "Mr. Glacier and I will take care of everything."

"But there's the exams too," Harry told him. "I really don't want to go."

"We can't press charges or file suit against the Muggles until we do, though," said Sirius, "and do you _really_ want them to get away with hurting you?"

"No," said Harry sadly, then paused. "Sirius…do you think I'm a baby for keeping this stuffed toy?"

"Your father gave that to you, Harry," said Sirius, smiling. "I would be more surprised if you didn't want to keep it. Besides, a lot of adults sleep with a stuffed animal or something like that. My brother Regulus was still sleeping with his security blanket when I left home, and he was much older than you are. It's nothing to feel ashamed of."

"But you wouldn't tell anyone, would you?" said Harry, looking down at the one antler the toy had left.

"Wouldn't dream of it," said Sirius. "But anyway—if you're still up for it, I had something fun planned for today. Do you want to visit Remus at his cottage?"

"Sure," said Harry. "I'll take Prongs upstairs, and then we can go. Are we taking the bike?"

"Naturally," Sirius replied, and Harry grinned.

…

In no time at all, they were at Crescent Cottage, which was where Remus Lupin lived. Sirius rang the doorbell; Remus greeted them at the door and led them into a small sitting room where, to Harry's shock…

"SURPRISE!"

Harry's mouth fell open. Barbara, Remus and Dumbledore were there in the sitting room, each of them bearing a gift; there was a big cake on the coffee table with eleven candles stuck inside of it; there were balloons and a big banner that read _Happy Birthday, Harry_ taped onto the wall.

"Happy Birthday, Harry," Sirius said, grinning. "I know your birthday is tomorrow…but considering we're kind of booked on that day…I hope you don't mind having your party a day early."

"Oh, wow…" Harry's face felt very hot. "You didn't have to do this…"

"It was our pleasure, Harry," said Remus courteously.

"Did you really think we'd forget?" Barbara added. "Eleven is a big deal! Come blow out your candles!"

Harry hadn't forgotten what Remus thought about Barbara, but apparently he had put his opinions aside for the sake of Harry's birthday. Of course, Remus was perfectly capable of lighting the candles with his wand, but since they were in the presence of a Muggle, he did it with a lighter instead, the way the Dursleys did for Dudley's birthday cakes.

"Go on, Harry," said Sirius kindly.

"Don't forget to make a wish," Barbara added. "But don't tell anyone, or it won't come true."

 _My wish is to be good at magic when I get to Hogwarts_ , Harry thought to himself as he blew out the candles. _Or at least not a total fail_.

Everyone clapped.

"All right, Harry," said Sirius. "Do you want to eat the cake first, or open presents?"

"Um…I don't mind," Harry told him. "Presents, I guess."

"I baked you some more brownies," Barbara began. "And I'm going to cook your birthday dinner for you. It was hard to find an actual gift, since we haven't really known each other that long. But Sirius and Mr. Glacier said you didn't have a lot of toys growing up, so I hope this is okay."

Barbara took her wallet out of her purse, then pulled out a plastic card. When Harry took it, he saw that it was a thirty-pound gift card for a toy store.

"Thanks, Barbara," said Harry. Sirius stowed the card in his wallet for safekeeping.

The rest of the gifts were good, too. Remus gave Harry an abundant amount of new parchment paper, some invisible ink and a handsome new quill pen; Dumbledore gave him scented candles; Sirius gave him a twenty-Galleon gift card for Quality Quidditch Supplies. After Harry had opened his presents, they all had some cake and brownies.

"I bet you're looking forward to a Barbara Raffelovich dinner," Barbara added. "I can cook anything you want."

"Do you know how to make treacle tarts?" Harry said hopefully.

"Of course," said Barbara. "What else would you like? Cooking's my favorite thing to do, so I can cook pretty much anything if you give me the recipe."

"How about hamburgers?" said Harry. "Maybe some baked potatoes, too?"

"You got it." Barbara winked.

"By the way, is that your last name?" Harry asked politely. "Raffelovich?"

"Yeah," she said. "That's my name, Barbara Catherine Raffelovich. It's a bit of a mouthful. I'm named for my great-grandmother, Barbara, and my godmother, Catie."

"I think that's the best last name ever," said Sirius. "It's very unique."

"It's always good to have a godparent, too," Harry added. "My godfather Sirius spoils me rotten."

"My mother, Gwendolyn, was friends with Catie when she was your age, Harry," said Barbara. "They were like sisters—they still are. She's like an aunt to me."

"So kind of like you and my dad, right, Sirius?" said Harry.

"Exactly," said Sirius, putting an arm around him.

"This is the best birthday I've ever had," said Harry, taking a big bite of cake. For just a moment, he forgot his worries, and spent a great day with his godfather and the other adults who, he knew, cared for him very much.

 **NEXT UP: How will the court date go? Will Harry finally be allowed to live with Sirius? And what will happen to the abominable Dursleys?**


	19. Order in the Court

That night, however, Harry hardly got any sleep. It helped that Sirius let him stay over at his flat again, because even though Sirius's flat was truly a real hole in the wall, Harry liked it because Sirius lived there. But it was still hard for Harry to get any sleep. He stayed up, staring at the clock on the wall, watching the hours go by. When the clock hit midnight, he would be eleven for real...By now it was half-past eleven. Only thirty minutes and Harry wouldn't be ten anymore.

 _Barbara was right about that_ , Harry thought. _Eleven IS a big deal._ _When I'm eleven I still won't be a teenager, but I won't be a kid anymore, either_.

Oh well. The thought of being a teenager made him a little apprehensive, anyway. Harry knew from Sirius that in the Wizarding world, you became of age at seventeen. Six years from now, would he still be staring at the clock, this time waiting to turn into an adult? Would he be great at magic, like his parents? Would he look like his father? Would he be shaving and have a deeper voice? Would he have a _girlfriend?_ But who would that be?

 _11:45_ , said the clock.

Harry looked down at Sirius, sleeping peacefully on the floor in his purple sleeping bag, clutching the pillow he had conjured from midair. Tonight, he hadn't had any night terrors. Harry really didn't want to disturb his godfather's sleep, but he still would have liked Sirius to sit up with him, just for a little while…

"Sirius?" whispered Harry, poking Sirius gently.

"Whuh?" Sirius mumbled, blinking sleepily.

"It's me, Harry," said Harry, still in his whispering voice.

"What is it?" said Sirius, brushing a lock of long, tousled black hair out of his eyes.

"I can't sleep," Harry told him.

"Still worried about the court date?" asked Sirius, climbing out of his sleeping bag and sitting down on the edge of the bed.

"Yeah," said Harry, getting up so he could sit next to Sirius.

"I'm telling you, Harry, it's all going to be fine," said Sirius. "Mr. Glacier has been practicing family law for almost fifty years now. The man definitely knows what he's doing—and we've got the will, remember?"

"I just wish we could skip to this September when I get to go to Hogwarts, and all the yucky legal stuff will be done," Harry confessed. "I have to get my court-ordered physical and psychiatric exams so we can sue the Muggles…"

"Well, that, and you probably need a checkup and your booster shots anyway," said Sirius thoughtfully.

"They're going to give me _shots_ , too?! _"_ Harry wailed.

"Think about it this way," said Sirius. "If you'd gotten a flu shot, you might not have gotten so sick a few weeks ago."

"Maybe," said Harry, "but those hurt a lot, don't they? Shots?"

"Well, it's been a long time since I've had to get a shot, but as I seem to recall, it really is just a pinch, and then it's over," Sirius told him. "It helps a great deal if you don't watch, of course."

"I'm eleven now," said Harry, pointing at the clock; it was nearly fifteen after.

"And it seems like just yesterday I held you for the first time," said Sirius, giving him a hug. "You really are growing up so fast, aren't you?"

"If you think about it, I'm still not a teenager, but I'm not a kid anymore, either," said Harry, voicing what he had been thinking about earlier that night. "Not that I mind so much. I don't really want to turn into a teenager."

"Why not?" said Sirius.

"I-I don't think I'm ready for that kind of change," Harry told him quietly. "All that stuff older kids have to deal with…It just seems kind of scary."

"Well, it's really not as scary as you think," said Sirius with a small smile. "I was your age once too, you know. So was your dad."

It was hard for Harry to imagine Sirius as an eleven-year-old, but of course he knew it was true.

"Do you think I'll be okay?" Harry asked.

"Of course," said Sirius. "As an adult, I can tell you this out of experience. You worry about all this stuff at first—well, why wouldn't you? But then, when you're all done growing up, you look back and realize there wasn't really much to worry about in the first place. The one thing all adults have in common is that they've survived these changes. And you will too."

"I still don't see how I could ever possibly be tall," said Harry. "Barbara thought I was about eight when she first met me, I could tell."

"It's because you were malnourished," Sirius said firmly. "The food at Hogwarts will help. It's basically like a free buffet every breakfast, lunch and dinner, and then they have the start-of-term feast and the Halloween feast and all that. When we were in school, your dad and I would sometimes sneak into the kitchens and nick food from there, too. For your dad's birthday in our sixth year, we stayed up all night making and eating cupcakes. Nobody ever goes hungry at Hogwarts, _especially_ not the child of a Marauder."

"Why?" asked Harry.

"Because you have James's copy of the Map," Sirius replied. "So you and your friends can use it for nicking food, just like we did."

"What if I don't make any friends?" said Harry in a small voice.

"You will," Sirius told him. "You're a good person. And if you remember your self-confidence, that helps too."

For a few minutes, there was an echoing silence, then Harry asked, "Are you sure you're going to get custody of me after the court date tomorrow?"

"I promise I will," Sirius reassured him. "Now, we don't want you to be tired on the big day, so please try and get some rest, all right? There is no way I'm going to make the same mistake I made ten years ago."

"What mistake?"

"I should have fought tooth and nail for you that horrible November day," said Sirius, as Harry got back into bed, "and it's what I _am_ going to do, tomorrow. The hell with Dumbledore's orders—I'm your godfather. And as long as I'm with you, no harm will ever come to you."

"Thanks, Sirius," said Harry sleepily, grabbing his Prongs toy again.

"You're welcome," Sirius replied, pulling the covers up to Harry's neck and tousling his hair. "Goodnight."

…

The next morning seemed to come much too early. When Harry woke up, he couldn't hear the shower running, but the bathroom door was closed, so he got up and knocked. When Sirius opened it, his hair was still wet from his shower, he was wearing his blue dressing-gown and he still had shaving cream on his face.

"I can't shirk today," he said. "I've got to look put together."

"Doesn't that hurt?" Harry asked, sitting down on the side of the bathtub and watching Sirius.

"Not if you know what you're doing," Sirius replied. "Don't go touching this, though—it can slice your fingers open."

"Who do you know who's sliced their fingers open on a razor?" Harry asked interestedly.

"My brother, Regulus," said Sirius. "When he was about fifteen or so, and he decided to shave for the first time…Somehow he managed to nearly slice his own finger off instead. But he hadn't gotten permission from our parents to shave yet, so it was up to me to help him stop the bleeding and all that."

"Sounds kind of rebellious, for him at least," said Harry, grinning.

"Well, he'd surprise you sometimes," said Sirius thoughtfully. "I mean, it's not like he was ever that rude to me—nothing more than normal sibling banter between us. I guess it wasn't all his fault he was the favorite. It was kind of hard to know what was going on in his head sometimes."

"You know, it sounds like he kind of looked up to you a little," said Harry. "I'll bet he missed you when you left."

"If he looked up to _me_ ," said Sirius, "why ever would he join the Death Eaters?"

"I don't know." Harry shrugged. "But he couldn't have asked for a better older brother, that's all."

"Thank you, Harry," said Sirius as he finished up his shaving and rinsed his face, then magically dried his hair. "Okay, listen—I'm going to get dressed out there while you get a shower in here. Make sure you wash your hair. We've both got to look nice."

Sirius dressed in a suit that looked kind of like the ones Uncle Vernon wore to work, and he combed his hair into a ponytail again. Harry wore his dress shirt and slacks, and Sirius let him borrow a tie. By now, Harry had (for the most part) gotten used to wearing the antiperspirant every day; he only wore the cologne on special occasions, but since he considered a court date to be a special occasion, he sprayed it behind his ears and on his wrists like Sirius told him.

"Looking good," said Sirius. "Now we have to do this…"

Just like he had done for his own hair, Sirius magically dried Harry's hair (although they didn't bother trying to comb it), and he tied Harry's tie. Sirius grabbed a briefcase sitting near the door and they set out.

"How are we getting there?" Harry asked, trying not to breathe through his nose as they stepped into the hallway that smelled of cigarette smoke. "The motorcycle?"

"Nah, that'll mess up our hair and clothes," Sirius replied. "You don't mind taking the Underground, do you? Like when we went to House of Fraser?"

"No, I don't," said Harry.

So that was what they did. When they finally reached the courthouse in London, Mr. Glacier was already there, waiting for them.

"Harry! Sirius!" he said genially, energetically shaking hands with them both. "Good to see you, good to see you."

"Good to see you too, Mr. Glacier," Harry said politely.

Mr. Glacier smiled and led them into the courthouse, where the jury and the judge were waiting. It looked just like Harry had seen on TV, right down to the little soapbox where the witnesses stood. He was forcibly reminded of his latest nightmare, in which he had stood up in front of the jury and yelled, "I did it! That's right, me! And I feel great!"

"Unless you have something you'd like to say, Harry, Sirius and I will do all the talking," said Mr. Glacier. "You're a little early, so your aunt and uncle aren't here yet."

"So what should I do if I have got something to say?" Harry asked. "Stand up and shout _'Objection!'_ , maybe?"

"Just raise your hand and say, 'Permission to approach the stand, Your Honor', or something like that," said Mr. Glacier. "You _are_ only ten, after all. The court doesn't really expect you to know all the rules."

"I'm actually eleven," said Harry. "Today is my birthday."

"Well, Happy Birthday!" Mr. Glacier said, looking shocked. "If I had known, I would have gotten you a gift!"

"Oh, that's okay," Harry told him hurriedly. "It's more than enough that you're helping me move in with my godfather."

It was at that moment that Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia turned up. Uncle Vernon was wearing his best suit, and Aunt Petunia was wearing her favorite work party dress. From what Harry could tell, these work parties involved very little actual partying—they were really just another opportunity to network. So her dress looked fitting enough in a courtroom as well. Harry avoided their eyes; they didn't look happy about having to go to court.

"Order! Order in the court," said the judge, slamming his gavel. "We are gathered here today to decide whether Mr. Harry James Potter—" (he gestured to Harry) "—should move in with his godfather, or stay with his aunt and uncle. Mr. Potter is represented by Mr. Bernard Glacier—Mr. Glacier, do you have an opening statement? I do hope you haven't forgotten James Potter's will."

"I haven't," said Mr. Glacier coolly, whipping it out of his suit.

The jury looked impressed, and so was Harry.

"What does the will say?" asked the judge.

"In Article 2, Guardianship of Minor," said Mr. Glacier, "it says, _It is my request that the permanent guardianship and power-of-attorney of my son Harry James Potter be given to my close friend, Sirius Orion Black_."

"That's me," said Sirius.

"Very well, then," the judge replied. "Vernon and Petunia Dursley, do you have an opening statement?"

There was a very quiet pause.

"Well, actually," Uncle Vernon began, "we aren't extremely attached to the boy, to be honest."

"Yes, you can take him if you want," said Aunt Petunia, looking fearfully at Sirius. Harry knew she was hoping that if Harry cut off ties with her, Sirius might do so as well.

Another long pause.

"Well, that was anti-climactic," muttered the judge finally, then slammed his gavel down again. "All right then! Sirius Orion Black will be awarded full custody of his godson, Harry James Potter. Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, you are free to go."

"Yes!" cried Sirius, and he hugged Harry very tightly. Harry hugged him back, feeling like he couldn't wipe the grin off his face. The Dursleys scuttled out of the courtroom, and Harry's heart flew, knowing that, thanks to Sirius, he never had to spend one more day in their house.

"Mr. Potter, you are allowed to live with Mr. Black from this moment on," the judge continued. "However, Mr. Black will have to sign some paperwork before you are officially his, of course."

"I can help with that," said Mr. Glacier; he was grinning, too.

As they left the courtroom, Sirius told Harry about what their living arrangements would be.

"We might have to live in my old flat for a bit before we can move into the new one," he was saying as he, Harry and Mr. Glacier rushed out into the sunshine. "Later today we can pack all your things and go."

"It's okay," Harry told him, beaming.

"Who wants to go out to brunch and celebrate?" Mr. Glacier suggested. "I'll foot the bill."

 **NEXT UP: What will living with Sirius be like? How soon can they move into the new flat? And what, oh what, will Barbara say when Sirius has the relationship talk with her? Find out soon!**


	20. The Raffelovich Dinner

That night, Harry slept over at Sirius's flat again—although, as Sirius pointed out, it wasn't really a sleepover anymore. The next morning, Thursday, they headed to #4 Privet Drive to pack up Harry's belongings.

"I'm going to try and rent out the flat we found in the newspaper last weekend," said Sirius.

"All right," said Harry as he threw clothes randomly into the suitcase Sirius bought him.

"There's a packing strategy Remus showed us back in our first year, when we all got a dorm together," said Sirius. "We laughed at him then, but now I wonder if it'll come in handy…"

" _Have you all brushed your teeth yet?" Remus demanded, poking his head out of the bathroom. "Just because your mothers aren't here doesn't mean you don't have to brush your teeth."_

" _Don't you start acting like my mother, Remus," said James, rummaging in his trunk. "Hmm…where did I pack that stuff again?"_

" _Well, it's in your toiletries bag, right?" Remus said casually._

" _In my what?"_

" _You have a separate bag for your toiletries, a separate bag for your underwear, a separate bag for—oh, come on, am I the only one who actually packed properly?" Remus looked frustrated. "You do know you're going to be here for the better part of a year, right? You need to be organized!"_

" _Honestly? I just tossed everything I owned into a trunk," James admitted._

" _Me too," said Sirius. "You sure you're a boy, Remus?"_

" _Yes, I am, just not a slob." Remus didn't look angry, just a little exasperated as he took out a collapsible clothes hamper and set it up in the corner of the room._

Using Remus's packing strategy, Harry and Sirius were able to pack Harry's things so that they fit comfortably in the suitcase. Harry filled his schoolbag with his new school supplies and textbooks, and they walked down the stairs.

Harry could not believe it. This part of his life was finally drawing to a close. No more Dudley, no more going hungry, no more horrible punishments, no more being locked in a cupboard, no more wearing hand-me-downs or being bullied on the playground…It was wonderful! Finally, he would be living with his godfather, who loved him. Sirius placed an arm around Harry's shoulders as they walked outside.

"Thank you so much, Sirius," said Harry in a small voice.

"My pleasure," Sirius said warmly.

And the two of them headed off to London.

…

Since Barbara would be coming for dinner that evening, Sirius cleaned the whole flat using magic, and Harry loved to watch. The dishes in the sink were busily scrubbing themselves clean; Sirius also had to mop the sticky kitchen floor, clean the bathroom, and pick up his clothes off the floor. He did this while Harry unpacked. Since he had used magic, the cleaning was finished in a relatively short amount of time.

Barbara was ostensibly coming over to cook dinner for the three of them, but what she didn't know was that Sirius was planning on having the Relationship Talk with her. Sirius was clearly agonized about this, although Harry could tell he was trying not to show it.

Finally, around six, there was a knock at the door. Any color that remained in Sirius's face now left it.

"Please get the door, Harry," he croaked. Harry walked to the door and watched as Sirius flicked his wand and a bouquet of red, pink and white roses bloomed out of the tip. He then pocketed his wand, and Barbara walked into the room. She was wearing a black skirtsuit, and her dark hair was straightened instead of wavy today; it was shiny and went halfway down her back, as usual. She was wearing Sirius's pearl necklace and some pearl earrings to match (although those were probably faux pearls, but one was hardly distinguishable from the other). She was carrying two loaded shopping bags.

"I'm sorry I didn't get a chance to change out of my work clothes," she said breathlessly. "But I had to work late, and I wanted to get here on time."

"Don't worry," Sirius reassured her, then presented her with the flowers. "I got these for you."

"Oh, they're beautiful!" said Barbara. "Thank you, Sirius!"

"Not a problem at all," he replied, watching as Barbara took a whiff of the roses, then carefully set them on the ground so she could take off her black high heels.

"It's so hot out," she commented. "I'm so glad I can finally get this heavy jacket off."

Barbara unbuttoned her suit-jacket and hung it on Sirius's coat rack. Underneath she was wearing a plain white women's button-down and a black pencil skirt. Barbara then started digging in her purse, but made a noise of frustration.

"What is it?" said Sirius.

"Well, it's just that if I'm going to be cooking, I want to put my hair up, but I don't have a clip or an elastic or anything on me…" Barbara frowned. "You don't have one, do you?"

"Hmm…let me look in the bathroom," said Sirius. Harry knew he was only going in there so he could conjure one, because he came right back out a couple of seconds later holding a black butterfly clip encrusted with pink jewels.

"Where did you get this?" Barbara raised an eyebrow slightly.

"It was a gift from a friend," Sirius told her. "I've never worn it, though. You can keep it if you like."

"Sure," Barbara said, beaming at him, and pinned up her long hair using the clip. Perhaps Harry was imagining it, but he suspected she was taking a bit more time than was necessary. Was she putting her hair up, or was she showing off the hourglass-figure look the pencil skirt gave her? Sirius sat down on his bed and grabbed his pillow; Harry saw that he was watching her the way a dog watches the ball during a game of fetch. Once she was finally finished, she rolled up her sleeves in preparation for dinner.

"Do you need any help cooking?" Sirius asked her, supposedly calmly, although Harry noticed he was biting his lip.

"Oh, no, thank you," she replied smilingly. "I love cooking. It's my favorite hobby. Well… _one_ of my favorite hobbies."

Barbara winked at Sirius and strode into the kitchen.

"Merlin's beard," he muttered, shifting uncomfortably.

" _One_ of her favorite hobbies?" Harry repeated suspiciously. "What was her other favorite hobby? Snogging you, I expect?"

"Yes," said Sirius.

"Well, remember what Remus said," Harry told him firmly. "Barbara isn't just for snogging."

"I know," Sirius replied. "I know."

…

Just like Harry knew it would be, the dinner was delicious. Barbara cooked corn on the cob, meatloaf, and mashed potatoes. For dessert, she cooked Harry's favorite—treacle tart—and it was the best treacle tart Harry had ever eaten. He had three helpings.

"In the Raffelovich family, we don't eat until we're full," said Barbara, taking another bite of treacle tart herself. "We eat until we're stuffed."

"It tastes wonderful, Barbara," Sirius told her. "I think Harry approves."

"I do!" Harry told her. "You're an amazing cook!"

"Mr. Glacier said you and Harry finally get to live with each other," she said, grinning. "Is that true?"

"It is," Sirius replied. He looked happy, too.

"That's good," Barbara said. "It seems like your aunt and uncle didn't treat you too well, huh?"

"No," said Harry.

"Well, now that everyone's done, I'll get to cleaning up," said Barbara after a pause. She made to stand up, but Sirius gently touched her shoulder to sit her down again.

"Um, Barbara," he said. "I think…I think we need to talk."

All happiness seemed to drain from her face. Harry had witnessed enough of Aunt Petunia's sitcoms to know what "we need to talk" usually meant, so he could understand why she might feel that way. He ran out of the room as fast as his legs could carry him; he wanted to let Sirius and Barbara have their chat in privacy, but the truth was, there wasn't really anywhere to go. There was no kitchen door, just a doorway, and as it was a studio, the kitchen and the bedroom were the only two rooms in the flat. The two adults' voices were low, but audible.

"What is it?" Barbara asked, her voice full of nerves.

"It's just…" Sirius took a deep breath. "I was wondering if…if you'd like to…"

"To what?" she breathed.

"Take our relationship to the next level?" Sirius blurted out.

Silence. Total silence.

"What do you mean?" said Barbara, sounding a little confused.

"I mean, I-I don't know where you stand right now," said Sirius; he still sounded nervous, but his voice was becoming a little steadier. "Where _we_ stand. This is starting to feel like more than just hooking up to me. More than just a fling. I've met your parents, and you've met Harry and Remus, who are like family to me…I-I really like you, Barbara. It's a bit scary, sure, but I'm ready for things to become more serious between us—no pun intended. I just need to know if you feel the same way. We might not be completely sure if we're each other's soul mates. But I think it's worth finding out."

Harry couldn't help it. He knew it was wrong, but still…he crept slowly, slowly around to the doorway so he could see Barbara's face. To his shock, her hazel eyes were now filling with tears. And then…

"Oh, Sirius!" she shrieked, and it was Sirius's turn to look shocked then as Barbara ran over and flung her arms around his neck.

"W-What…what…"

"That was _beautiful!"_ Barbara cried. "I-I wanted to say something too, you know, I really did, but I was so scared, too scared…I really like you too, Sirius! I mean…you're handsome…and intelligent…and you ride a cool motorcycle…but at the same time, under that tough-guy exterior, you're so sweet and kind and loving. What you did for Harry was amazing. I don't know what's bigger, your heart or—"

"Now, now, Barbara," said Sirius. "That's all very nice. But remember, the glue that holds our relationship together is love."

"Yes." Barbara sighed happily. "Love."

With that, she gave Sirius a long, slow kiss on the lips; he grabbed her and they started snogging again. Harry definitely didn't want to listen to this, so he finally decided to shut himself in the bathroom until they were finished with their relationship talk. When it had been thirty minutes, he finally dared to exit the bathroom and enter the kitchen. Barbara and Sirius weren't making out anymore, thankfully, and they waved as Harry entered the kitchen.

"Guess what, Harry?" said Sirius.

"We're official!" Barbara chirped, and Sirius put his arm around her waist.

"I'm happy for you two," Harry told them, sitting down at the table and giving the new couple a small smile. "I really am."

…

That evening, Harry slept on the bed and Sirius slept on the floor in his sleeping bag, like they were going to do until they got the new flat and both of them could have their own room. Of course, Harry insisted on letting Sirius take the bed every once in a while, but Sirius would hear none of it. But that night, apparently Sirius didn't go to sleep right away.

"Harry? You still awake?"

"Mm-hmm…what is it?"

"Well, I just wanted to thank you for being so supportive of my new relationship," said Sirius. "I was afraid you'd, you know, resent Barbara or something."

It was easier to talk in the dark, easier to say what you felt.

"I-I did a little, at first," Harry confessed. "But then I saw how happy you were with her…I mean, I'm sure my dad would have been supportive too, especially because you were so supportive of him and my mother."

"They were perfect for each other, though," said Sirius quietly. "Mr. Prongs and Mrs. Flower."

"Mr. Padfoot and Miss Brownie," said Harry. "Who knows? Maybe someday you'll just be Mr. and Mrs. Black."

"Don't forget Mr. Prongslet," said Sirius. "No matter what happens with Miss Brownie, my first priority will always be Mr. Prongslet."

Harry smiled, and so did Sirius. They both slept peacefully that night.

 **TO BE CONTINUED!**


	21. Moving

The next week or so was amazing for Harry, and he never missed an opportunity to let Sirius know it. Sirius said that he did not understand why, as the place was such a dump (although he had been making more of an effort now that Harry was living there), but Harry insisted that it didn't matter.

"Honestly, Harry, I don't know why you love this flat so much," said Sirius. "The place is hardly better than my cell in Azkaban."

"Quite frankly, my dear Padfoot, I don't give a darn," said Harry, who was jumping on the bed. Sirius laughed out loud, because that was exactly the sort of thing James probably would have said.

That was the truth, though—Harry didn't need a mansion. He loved being roommates with Sirius. It couldn't be any more different than life with the Dursleys. When he lived with the Dursleys, Harry would awaken to Aunt Petunia's rapping on his cupboard door; he would have a few minutes to get dressed in Dudley's old clothes, then she would force him to help her cook breakfast while Uncle Vernon and Dudley both slept in.

With Sirius, he woke up to his own circadian rhythm, and since he was an early riser, this worked out quite well. Sirius was usually up by the time Harry was, and now Harry had his own new clothes to pick from. Once they were both dressed and ready, they would cook breakfast together, laughing at Sirius's lame cooking skills, Harry teaching Sirius how to make some of the breakfast dishes he had learned while making breakfast for the Muggles.

After breakfast on Privet Drive, Harry would try to get out of the house, usually down to the old playpark, before Dudley's friends came over. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia were all too glad to get him out of the house. If they weren't leaving Harry to his own devices, they would often give him work to do, letting him know that he wouldn't eat until he finished, and the food was never enough.

But with Sirius there was always a lot to do. He liked to have fun. They bought a TV to keep in the flat, so they could watch it like they had at the Dursleys'. That was good for when they wanted to relax a little. Other times they would explore London, which was one of Harry's favorite things to do. They would walk to the nearest train station, which was conveniently close to Sirius's flat, and it would take them to comic book stores, ice cream stores, bookstores, toy stores—the city had pretty much everything. Harry enjoyed eating at an ice cream shop where instead of putting the toppings on top of your ice cream, they put the toppings inside of it, which was a whole different experience, and the spoon even changed color when you dipped it inside the ice cream. Sirius thought that was possibly some kind of magic, but Harry explained that it was actually science, which was kind of what Muggles had instead of magic. The spoon could simply tell when you dipped it into something cold. One of Harry's favorite evenings out was when he and Sirius had hit a family-friendly karaoke bar in the heart of the city; they had treated the crowd to a spectacular performance of "The Lion Sleeps Tonight" (true, Sirius didn't know the song very well, but repeating "awemoweh" over and over again while Harry belted out the rest wasn't so hard).

Sirius and Harry went out a couple of times for dinner, and other times, Barbara came over and cooked dinner for them, which was always delicious. Harry was starting to…well, not _like_ her, maybe, not yet at least, but she was becoming less annoying. At least she had stopped giving him hugs, which he appreciated, and she had apologized for calling him by the wrong name. Not only that, but Harry did feel that the flat could have used a woman's touch.

When the day was done, Harry would usually take a long, hot bubble bath in Sirius's bathroom, although he couldn't stay in there too long, as the flat only had one bathroom. Then he and Sirius would stay up, talking in the total darkness about whatever they wanted. Harry was shocked one night when, as soon as they got into bed, Sirius informed him that they would be able to move into the new flat tomorrow.

"Oh," said Harry, and he couldn't help but feel a little disappointed.

"Why so glum?" Sirius asked, putting his hands behind his head and staring straight up at Harry. "Don't you want to get out of this crappy place?"

"Number Four, Privet Drive was a crappy place," said Harry. "But this place is great, even if the hallway does reek of cigarettes, even if the traffic is bad, even if there are only two rooms, even if you do stink a little at cooking."

"I resent that," said Sirius, although he was laughing.

"The most important thing is that I'm living with you, and as long as that's true, I'm happy," Harry told him. "I like having you as a roommate. The only thing I don't like is that you never let me take the floor."

"Trust me," said Sirius, "I have had _much_ worse sleeping conditions than this. It's no problem."

"Then it's great," said Harry. "I love how every night we get to stay up late talking, and I know I can tell you anything, ask you anything. One of the stricter rules in the Dursleys' house was that I wasn't allowed to ask questions."

"Well, you are allowed to here, because that's the way we learn in this household," Sirius declared. "But anyway, even if we won't be sharing a room anymore, I'll still be in the next room over. If you've ever got something you want to talk to me about, just bring it up over dinner or catch me before bed, that's all…Why? _Is_ something the matter?"

"No…well, yeah," Harry admitted. "Now that my aunt and uncle have lost custody, that means we have to settle against them. And _that_ means I have to get those horrible court-ordered physical and psychiatric exams. I keep having these awful dreams about it."

"Like what?"

"I dreamed that I had a heart attack and died in the hospital, for one thing," said Harry. "It was based on this medical show I saw where a criminal was in the hospital and he was having a heart attack, and then he tried to escape, so a cop tasered him, and the taser set his heart right again. But I just dreamed about the heart attack."

"What's a taser?" said Sirius interestedly.

"Do you know what electricity is?" said Harry.

"Not really," Sirius told him.

"Okay, well…" Harry sighed. "It's what makes the TV and the phone work. But the taser is full of electricity, too. And cops use it on criminals when they resist arrest."

"Oh," said Sirius. "We just Stun them."

"Whatever," said Harry, a bit impatiently. Sirius's curiosity about the Muggle world did amuse him, but right now he would have liked some reassurance about his fears…unless they would soon be realized. "I still don't know exactly what's going to happen."

"They just have to gauge how badly you were treated, which is what the court wants, and to be honest, I want to make sure you're okay anyway," Sirius said calmly. "They'll need to do blood tests and check your heart and breathing and reflexes and all that. I'm planning on asking the doctor to prescribe something to help you catch up in the growth department, too. They'll check your eyes to make sure your prescription is up-to-date, which it probably isn't. They'll check for cracked and broken bones, too, and yes, you _will_ have to get some booster shots. I'm also planning on taking you to St. Mungo's to get your magical vaccines."

"Magical vaccines?"

"Yes," said Sirius. "Vanishing sickness, dragon pox, that sort of thing. Again, you were immunized as a baby, but you're very late for your booster shots. Anyway…except maybe the shots a bit, none of that is going to be painful, and all of it is basic stuff. They're not going to be doing open-heart surgery or anything."

"What about the psychiatric exam?" Harry continued.

"That's easy," Sirius told him. "You just have to cooperate with the shrink and answer his questions, that's all. It'll be a child psychiatrist, and they're quite used to working with people your age."

"I'm _not_ a child," said Harry.

"Child psychiatrists work with pre-teens, and even regular teenagers, too," Sirius told him. "Not just little kids. When they go to college they probably have to take, like, 'Teenagers 101' or something."

"Yeah, maybe." Harry smiled a little, thinking about what it would be like to take a class on teenagers. "I bet a lot of parents wish they could take that class too."

"I'm sure," said Sirius, leaning up on one elbow and looking up at Harry, his untidy dark hair falling into his eyes and around his shoulders, brushing against the typical several-day-old stubble on his face. "But remember, now that you're in my custody, you're safe. I would never let anything hurt you, Harry."

"You know, Sirius, Dudley wasn't much into fairy tales, so I didn't hear any at home, but there was a book in my preschool called _Cinderella_ ," Harry began. "You've probably never heard of it—"

"Never," said Sirius.

"Well, long story short, it was about a girl whose parents loved her very much, but they died, and she got stuck working for her horrible, evil stepmother and her two bratty stepsisters. Meanwhile, the King is looking for a girl to marry his son, so he holds a ball and invites all the girls in the kingdom. Well, Cinderella wanted to go to the ball too, so she asked her evil stepmother…"

"And she said no?" asked Sirius, who was listening with interest.

"No, she actually said yes," Harry told him, "as long as she'd finished her chores first. So she finished her chores extra fast but then realized she didn't have a dress. So she made one…but then the evil stepsisters ruined her dress so she couldn't go to the ball."

"How could they!" gasped Sirius, looking scandalized.

"Yeah, I know," said Harry. "But here's the part you'll like. Cinderella is crying about not being able to go to the ball, and that's when her fairy godmother shows up and turns her pumpkins into a carriage that will take her to the ball, and she turns all the mice into horses—"

"They have a rodent infestation?" said Sirius. "I thought Cinderella was supposed to be doing the housework for this place."

"The mice are her _friends_ ," said Harry impatiently. "They helped her sew the original dress that was ripped up by the stepsisters. But anyway, after the fairy godmother does all of that, she gives Cinderella a beautiful new dress to wear, and everything looks perfect."

"And?" said Sirius, confused.

"Well, when the teacher read us the book in preschool, Cinderella's story kind of rang a bell if you know what I mean, but I never had anyone in my life who reminded me of the fairy godmother." Harry rolled onto his back and grinned at the ceiling. "Now I do."

"Oh…" Harry watched Sirius grin as the words sunk in. "Thank you, Harry."

"In the story, the fairy godmother is the one who comes along and makes things all better for Cinderella," Harry continued. "That's what you did for me, as my…as my wizard godfather, I suppose. How cool is it to go to the zoo as a miserable, lonely kid, and then discover you have a wizard godfather?"

"Well, if the fairy godmother is anything like me, she was happy to do those things for Cinderella, because she loves her and will love her forever," Sirius replied. "How did the story end, anyway? Did she get to go to the ball?"

"Yeah, she did," said Harry, laughing at how Sirius actually enjoyed the story. "She met the prince at the ball, and married him. Of course, I could do without marrying a prince."

"Well, maybe at Hogwarts you'll find your princ _ess_ ," Sirius said teasingly.

"No way," said Harry, who hadn't thought about this, truthfully. Of course there were girls at his school, but most of the time, the boys and girls didn't play together. The boys would usually play kickball or Freeze Tag while the girls played hopscotch or skipped rope. Besides, Harry had spent his school years singled out and alone, so he hadn't interacted with boys _or_ girls much. All he knew was, he didn't feel any differently for the girls at his school than he did for the boys, and he definitely couldn't imagine _kissing_ any of his female classmates. He patiently explained all of this to Sirius, who seemed to find it highly amusing.

"Just you wait," he said, letting out his familiar bark of laughter. "In a couple years, I'm sure some witch your age will have you under her spell."

"Oh, ha-ha," said Harry.

"I _could_ turn pumpkins into carriages and mice into horses, though," Sirius said thoughtfully, after a pause. "It's pretty easy."

 _"Easy?"_

"Well, you won't be doing it your first day at Hogwarts, but it's hardly O.W.L. level."

"What's that?" Harry asked.

"Ordinary Wizarding Levels," Sirius explained. "They're tests you take in your fifth year that determine which classes you take in your sixth and seventh years."

"Oh, so it's sort of like a GCSE, then," Harry told him, remembering the tests British Muggles had to take in high school.

"What the bloody _hell_ is a GCSE?" said Sirius.

"Nothing that would concern you," Harry replied, laughing and taking note to teach Sirius more about the Muggle world someday soon. Harry was learning more about the Wizarding world from Sirius, but it seemed that Sirius was learning from him, too.

…

The next morning dawned bright and sunny. As soon as they were up, Sirius and Harry packed their things into many boxes, which had been conjured out of thin air; Sirius shrunk them magically and put them all into Harry's suitcase. Before they stepped out into the cigarette-smoke-filled hallway for the very last time, Harry looked around the studio, feeling a little sad. It didn't take long, as there wasn't much to look at.

"What's the matter?" said Sirius.

"Like I said, Sirius, it's not about the flat," said Harry. "It's about the memories. So many happy things happened here…so I'm going to miss it, that's all."

"I guess I see what you mean," Sirius said slowly. "I'm still welcome to live in my old family home if I ever want to. But I don't ever want to, because of the memories the place holds."

Harry nodded.

"But look," Sirius continued. "We can make even better memories in our new place. And it's much bigger, too, remember…Three bedrooms, two bathrooms, one drawing room, and one kitchenette."

"Yeah, you're right," said Harry; he let Sirius put an arm around his shoulders, Sirius pulled their one suitcase packed full of miniscule boxes, and they left the old flat behind.

The journey on the motorcycle didn't take very long at all, since the new flat was also in London, just in a different area. In short, it was a much better area. The shops nearby were more expensive, there was less graffiti, there were no homeless people to be found. There was a playpark nearby that looked much newer than the one in Little Whinging—it looked more like the playpark owned by Harry's old public school. The ground was made of some sort of squishy material, instead of cement, and the equipment was plastic instead of rickety aluminum.

Sirius had also snagged a parking spot for this flat, just like he had for his old one. The interior of the apartment was beautiful. The fountain was golden and shaped like a mermaid; the water came out of her mouth and poured into her hands. There were still mailboxes all along the walls, like at the old place, but the carpet didn't have any weird stains and there was a TV above the reception desk.

"Before we go see the room, do you want to explore a bit?" Sirius asked, grinning.

"Yes, please!" said Harry, grinning.

They toured the whole of the building's downstairs, which had a lot of things to interest Harry. There was an exercise room, a pool, a convenience store, and even a restaurant. They learned where the laundry was and where the fire exits were. They ate brunch at the restaurant, then Sirius got his new keys at the front desk and they finally went up to their floor. Sirius let Harry press the _20_ button on the elevator. When the doors opened, Harry ran out into the hallway and looked out the window. Sirius snapped his fingers, feigning impatience, but he was laughing so much at Harry's excitement that it hardly mattered.

"Wow, look at this, Sirius!" Harry called excitedly.

"We _are_ high up, aren't we?" Sirius agreed, looking down at the street below, hands in his jeans pockets.

Harry had never been this high up in a building before. Sirius's old flat had been on the seventh floor, and even so, that building had only had ten floors. From this new height, everything was so small.

"It's like the view I get when we're riding on the motorcycle," Harry said breathlessly.

"Still missing the old flat?" Sirius asked wryly.

"Not so much." Harry grinned.

After they were done looking out the window, they finally entered the new flat; their room number was 208. It was completely empty inside (Sirius was going to get some of his old things out of storage, and buy some new things as well), but it was huge!

Harry ran to the kitchenette, which had a stainless steel fridge, clean, non-sticky hardwood floors, and wooden cabinets. There was a glass chandelier on the ceiling. There was room for a big kitchen table as well, and there was a door, not just a doorway. There was even an island. Sirius's old studio could have fit into the drawing room alone. There was room for a couch and the new TV, and probably some bookshelves, a coffee table and other things too. Off the drawing room was the half-bathroom, where there was a glass shower and one sink and new gleaming, spotless mirror. There were two bedrooms, both about the same size. The full bathroom was in between them. It was much larger than the half-bathroom; there were two mirrors and two sinks; the countertops were granite, just like in the half-bathroom. The tub was huge and it had a Jacuzzi in it. Both of the bedrooms had walk-in closets.

"I can't believe this place is only 2500 pounds a month!" Harry said happily, loving the way his voice echoed throughout the brand-new flat. "It's wonderful!"

"It'll be even better after we furnish it," Sirius reminded him. "Think about that…I'm sure there will be tons of pictures of your parents in the storage unit where they put everything in my old flat after I was arrested. We can keep that stuff, and I was thinking maybe we could donate my old furniture and get some brand-new stuff for this flat?"

"Sounds great," said Harry, and the wind was knocked out of Sirius as Harry grabbed him tightly in a hug. "Oh, thank you, Sirius…this is the best place I've ever lived in. Cinderella's fairy godmother hasn't got anything on you."


	22. Such a Bad Mood

The next day, Harry mentioned in passing that _Cinderella_ had been made into a movie. He immediately wished he hadn't, because Sirius insisted on watching it.

"Have you watched a movie before?" Harry asked warily.

"One," Sirius told him happily. "I watched _Back to the Future_ with Barbara. Loved it!"

"Okay, well, this isn't like _Back to the Future_ ," said Harry exasperatedly. "This movie is for _girls_ , Sirius. It's a Disney movie."

"Oh yeah!" Sirius's face lit up. "Barbara mentioned something about that! She said she watched all of them when she was a little girl—we can invite her too! We can have another movie night!"

Harry groaned. But then again, if he was to teach Sirius about the Muggle world, watching animated movies was as good a place to start as any, he supposed.

…

Barbara came over to the new flat one hot August afternoon to have the movie viewing party, which she had readily agreed to. (Remus, the established Secret-Keeper, had very, very reluctantly disclosed the secret location to her, although he warned Sirius that if they broke up, Sirius was going to have to move and Remus would never tell any of Sirius's girlfriends a single thing again.) Barbara brought popcorn and picked up the movie at the library on the way.

In the end, Sirius liked the movie the best. Barbara watched it with a sort of nostalgic smile on her face, and Harry just wanted it to be over, but Sirius seemed to be thoroughly enjoying it. He said Cinderella's family did remind him of the Dursleys, and Gus the mouse reminded him of Peter Pettigrew because he was such an idiot. Some of it he didn't quite understand, but he laughed and cheered, put his hands up to his mouth in fright, yelled in anger, and he even thought it was romantic when Cinderella and the Prince fell in love. Predictably, his favorite part was the fairy godmother part, although he couldn't say much with a Muggle in the room.

"That's silly, isn't it?" Barbara commented. "Turning the pumpkins into a carriage and all that? Only in movies."

The corners of Sirius's mouth twitched, and he and Harry carefully avoided each other's eyes.

"Wow, that was great!" Sirius said enthusiastically after the movie, as Harry took to rewinding the VHS. "It was almost as good as when we watched _Back to the Future_ , wasn't it, Barbara?"

"I never thought I'd meet a grown man who liked Disney movies, but I guess I was wrong," Barbara said, grinning. "We can watch more sometime, if you like."

"No need to invite me, though," said Harry quickly. "I'm not really into Disney."

"Most boys aren't," said Barbara, nodding. "I was glad you agreed to watch this movie with us. It really brings me back. Like I said, I watched all of them as a girl."

"How many are there?" Sirius asked.

"Oh, there are a ton of them," said Barbara. "Probably like two hundred. My most recent favorite is _The Little Mermaid_ , but _Beauty and the Beast_ is supposed to come out in November. It's about an arrogant prince who gets turned into a monster, and he can only become human again if a girl falls in love with him. You can come and see it in the cinema with me, if you want."

"Sure!" Sirius beamed. Harry smacked himself in the forehead.

"Well, 'bye," Barbara said sweetly, kissing Sirius on the cheek and leaving, taking with her the flowers he had conjured up for her, as well as the VHS.

"Harry," said Sirius quickly, "what's the cinema?"

"It's just a place for watching movies," Harry explained, resisting the urge to face-palm again. "You buy your snacks, sit down and watch the movie. She just asked you on another date, basically."

"Oh, good!" said Sirius. "Sounds fun. But anyway, there was something I wanted to show you…"

Harry watched, and his mouth dropped open as Sirius conjured up a pumpkin—and then Harry knew what Sirius was going to do.

Sirius used his wand to lift the pumpkin into the air, like the fairy godmother had, and enlarged it, then—with a flick of the wrist—there was a white carriage, just like in the movie, right in their drawing room.

"See?" he said, Banishing the carriage and laughing at Harry's expression. "I can totally be your wizard godfather."

"I know you can," said Harry, and he started laughing too.

…

The laughs didn't last for long, however. Several hours later, Sirius found a letter in his mailbox ("Muggle post") from Mr. Glacier, informing him that the Dursleys' court date had been set up for August 26, 1991, and that they had better get a move on with the tests. Harry had been nerve-stricken ever since. It was awful setting up the appointment, especially because Harry learned that he was going to have to have his physical in the hospital.

"Okay, now…" Sirius and Harry had a phone in their new flat, but Sirius was still practicing with it. Currently, Harry's godfather was on his knees, holding up the receiver and staring blankly down at the keypad; Harry was standing up, his heart pounding against his chest, blood pumping in his eardrums. "How do I work this thing again?"

"I don't remember how to use the phone," said Harry.

"Yes, you do," Sirius said impatiently.

"No," said Harry firmly, "I don't."

"Harry James, you are acting like a child," Sirius told him sharply. "I've told you—there is absolutely _nothing_ to be afraid of. Just show me how to work this goddamn thing."

"Or what?" said Harry, crossing his arms and turning away.

"Or wha—Harry, dial the phone right now! I'm doing this for your own good!"

"Make me." Harry could hardly stand how bratty he was being, but he couldn't help it. For some reason, he was feeling quite prickly today.

"Maybe I will!" Sirius said hotly. "How would you like me to—to _wizard-ground_ you?"

"What's that?" Harry couldn't help but look around at him, his interest peaked slightly.

"It means that wherever I decide you aren't allowed to go, I can block you from going there using magic," said Sirius stiffly. "But I don't want to do it. So just cooperate with me."

"How is that a punishment?" said Harry stubbornly. "I don't even go anywhere unless it's with you."

"I can block you at Hogwarts, and you're going there in about a fortnight."

For a moment Harry considered just bending down onto the floor and helping Sirius dial the phone. But it was as if something else had possessed him as he angrily pulled the phone cord out of the socket and stormed off to his room, slamming the door so hard he thought he heard a chunk of plaster fall down through the walls.

Sirius and Harry hadn't actually gone furniture shopping yet; Sirius had bought Harry a new bed, and until they did go shopping, Sirius had the same bed he'd been using in his old flat. Harry felt slightly guilty as he sat down, knowing that Sirius could have made him use the old bed, or even just not given him a bed at all…In fact, he didn't feel a little guilty, he felt a lot guilty, completely ashamed of himself. Why had he acted like that? Sirius had done so much for him. If it weren't for Sirius, he would probably be sitting in a cupboard right now.

How could this day could have possibly gone so wrong? Harry drew his knees up and buried his face in them, his hands grabbing his hair. He could feel tears burning in the corners of his eyes now, and the thick lump in his throat, the one that comes before crying. After his eleventh birthday, he had felt like he was neither a child nor a teenager…but he sure felt like a child now, like a stupid, overemotional toddler who had thrown a fit over nothing. He didn't feel grown-up at all, but since he wasn't even sure if he wanted to feel grown-up yet, it just made him confused and more miserable than ever.

It must have been at least an hour or two before Harry heard a quiet knock on his room door. His head was still hidden from sight, and his face was wet from his silent tears.

"Go away," Harry mumbled. He didn't want to talk to Sirius right now.

"Harry," said Sirius.

"Leave me alone."

Sirius didn't answer. He opened the door to Harry's room (which was much bigger than his room at Number Four, Privet Drive), shut it behind him, and sat on the bed. Harry felt Sirius's hand touch his shoulder. For a moment there was silence, then—

"You know, Harry," said Sirius, "I would quite appreciate it if you would try to talk things through with me, as opposed to just slamming your door in my face. How do you suppose that makes me feel?"

"Angry?" Harry was still hiding his face in his hands, because he didn't want Sirius to see his tears. Sirius couldn't possibly feel any worse than Harry did…could he?

"No, not angry, Harry," said Sirius, taking Harry's hands off of his face and pulling him into a hug; the now-familiar Old Spice scent reminded Harry that he had forgotten to put on his own antiperspirant again (he was still getting used to remembering to do it every day). "Disappointed? Maybe a little. Upset, certainly…But mostly I'm just worried about you."

"Why are you worried?" said Harry in a small voice.

"Because you weren't acting like the Harry Potter I know," Sirius told him. "I mean…I'm your godfather, and I want to do what I can to help you if something's wrong."

"Everything is wrong," said Harry, his voice rising slightly in pitch. Even though he knew it wasn't really true, and that he was most likely overreacting, it felt good to say it.

"What do you mean?" Sirius sounded like he was absolutely vying for patience, and he needed it, for that was when Harry finally started to cry, clinging as tightly to Sirius as he could.

"I-I-I d-don't want to g-get those s-stupid exams!" Harry wailed. "I don't w-want to have another c-court date with the Muggles! I-I don't want to b-be a total f-fail at magic! I-I d-don't w-want to be picked on b-by all these n-n-new kids and t-teachers I d-don't even know!"

"You're going to do fine, Harry," said Sirius, rubbing his godson's back. "I mean it. I don't know where you keep getting this idea that you're going to be a terrible wizard. You've done magic already!"

"B-But never on p-purpose!"

"I know, but…" Sirius sighed. "Nobody knows how to turn a teacup into a tortoise on their first day, whether they're from a pureblood family like your dad's or a Muggle family like your mum's….Think of your school. Aren't there some kids who are better at spelling than they are at math? Kids who are better at art than they are at sports?"

"Y-Yeah," said Harry, wiping his eyes. "So?"

"So it's no different at Hogwarts," said Sirius. "Everyone has a best subject. Mine was Care of Magical Creatures. James loved Transfiguration, and Lily was great at Charms. Everyone's best at something, see?"

"Well…maybe," Harry said, sniffing. "But what will I be best at?"

"I suppose we'll just have to wait and see," Sirius told him, tousling his hair. "But there are a whole bunch of subjects. I'm sure Muggle Studies would be a breeze—you know all the answers, probably even better than the teacher."

"Won't the teacher be a Muggle-born like my mum?"

"Not necessarily," said Sirius, "and even if he is, after seven years of Hogwarts, Muggle-borns are exposed to so much magic and Wizarding things that they basically become indistinguishable from purebloods and half-bloods. They eat the same foods, have the same habits, live in the same places, even think the same way. They very rarely marry Muggles, they marry other witches and wizards, and they have magic babies, and those babies grow up and go to Hogwarts too, and then they're just another magic family. There are purebloods who will stink at magic, and there are Muggle-borns who will be great at it. Just you wait."

Harry paused, pondering this, then finally said, "Sirius, I-I've never been to the hospital before. Except when I was born, I guess."

"What?" Sirius looked confused again. "Why would you need to go to the hospital for that? Last time I checked, a baby isn't an injury."

"Yeah, but…" Harry sighed. "Don't most women have babies in hospitals? My cousin was born in a hospital—wasn't I, too?"

"That must be another Muggle thing," said Sirius, laughing. "No, in our world there are special walk-in clinics for that. They have Healers specially trained to deliver babies. So you were born in a Birth Clinic. We have hospitals, too, but they treat things like spell damage and animal bites and things like that."

"I've seen babies being born on Aunt Petunia's soap operas," said Harry, "so that's how I know. It looks pretty painful."

"Oh, it's not so painful if you're a witch…or, well, so I hear," Sirius told him, grinning. "When you were born, the Healer just gave Lily a potion to make things nice and painless, and then Moony and Wormtail and I waited in the reception area for a long time. Then James called me in first, and I got to hold you in my arms, an adorable baby with a little tuft of messy black hair and big, bright green eyes. I gave you your gift, and that's when James told me I would be your godfather."

"What was my gift?"

"I got you a custom-made onesie that said 'I Solemnly Swear I Am Up To No Good' on the front, and 'Mischief Managed' on the butt."

Finally, Sirius had gotten Harry to laugh. Just the thought of him as a tiny, newborn baby, wearing a onesie that said "Mischief Managed" on the butt, was enough to get him up out of the dumps.

"Wasn't my mum angry?" said Harry, once he had finished laughing.

"I think she was, a little, but after you tried it on she admitted that it did look sort of cute, and that you would probably throw up on it soon anyway," said Sirius. "She was pretty calm throughout the whole thing, actually—it was James who was nervous. When I got into the delivery room one of the lamps had been shattered and a chair had been Transfigured into a duck."

"Accidental magic," laughed Harry, looking at the picture of his dancing parents on his nightstand and picturing his father being so nervous about his impending parenthood that he almost lost control of his powers.

"Well, he was a really young dad, and you were his first baby." Sirius shrugged. "It _is_ usually the fathers who do the accidental magic during the births they attend."

There was a very long pause, during which they both watched the photo intently.

"I wish he was still here," said Harry softly, not taking his eyes off of the photo, but leaning into Sirius again. "So he could bend down and hug me the way you do. So I could hear these stories from him, too…see him turn into Prongs…ask him if…if he's proud of me…I don't think he would be."

"Aw, why not, Prongslet?" said Sirius, squeezing Harry's shoulder.

"Because today I was very rude to his best friend." Harry started to cry again, and he turned his face away. It was so embarrassing, all of it. One minute he'd been laughing at the thought of himself in a Marauders' Map onesie, the next he was crying again. "Even after you've b-been so nice t-to me…"

"Oh, Harry…" Sirius gathered up Harry and hugged him tight. "I knew your dad well, and he would understand. James had bad days too."

"He d-did?"

"Of course," said Sirius gently, waiting for Harry to cry himself out. "Everybody does. He and I did have our fights sometimes, you know…but we always made up, because that's what friendship is about. That's what love is about. At the end of the day, when you really love someone, the small things don't matter so much."

"I'll bet my dad was never barking mad like you must think I am," Harry mumbled, making sure to wipe his eyes on his hand; Sirius would probably get angry if he got any more tears on his shirt.

"Barking what?" Sirius looked bewildered.

"Barking mad," Harry repeated, still feeling mortified by the scope of his behavior today. "I was angry with you, then I was ashamed of myself for it, then you were telling me a story and making me laugh, and…and then I started stupidly crying again."

"You've dealt with a lot this summer and there's still more to come," Sirius told him. "Not everything was bad—I mean, you're not living in a cupboard anymore. But I know it can still be overwhelming."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you're not 'barking mad'," said Sirius. "You're just at a complicated time in your life. But it'll get better. Everything's going to be all right."

"Listen, the Muggles never took me to the regular doctor," said Harry. "I'm starting to wonder if this lawsuit is even worth it."

"Harry, I really don't want to make you do anything you don't want to do," said Sirius. "But the court date is already set up, and the court has already ordered the tests, and…well, even if this wasn't all going on, I would still want to set up a doctor's appointment to make sure you're healthy. You _are_ going off to boarding school soon."

"I'm healthy," said Harry firmly. "I am! It's just…those medical dramas are kind of scary."

"I don't know much about TV, but I'm pretty sure they exaggerate things for the viewers' entertainment," said Sirius. "The bloke that got his heart fixed by your Muggle police shocking him? Totally fake."

"No, it's really true! There's electricity in the body, like in the heart and brain and stuff," said Harry. "We're learning about The Human Body in Science. Our last unit before summer vacation was on the cardiovascular system."

"And what else have you learned?"

"Muscles, bones, lungs, and brain, in that order," said Harry. "We learned about tearing ligaments and getting osteoporosis and how bad smoking is for your lungs. You know, in some of the pictures you've shown me, I've seen you smoking, Sirius. Do you know how bad that is for you?"

"Well, I _stopped_ , didn't I?" said Sirius defensively. "Besides, everybody was on something in the seventies. People thought it was cool."

"There's nothing cool about the way the hallway of your old flat smelled."

"You know, Harry, they say you've got Lily's eyes, but you've also got her sass," Sirius told him, grinning. "Very kind woman, but still, she had quite a mouth on her. And she didn't approve of the smoking either. Every time I'd light up in front of her, she'd put it out with some water from her wand."

Harry smiled for a moment, then sighed. "Look, Sirius…just wizard-ground me."

"What?"

"I deserve it," Harry explained. "I really did act like a git."

"Oh, Prongslet, don't worry," said Sirius, putting his arm around Harry. "I think we can let this one slide. You're just under a lot of stress, that's all. The point of punishment is that you learn your lesson, and I know you have."

"It was wrong for me to take my stress out on you," Harry insisted. "I know you're just trying to help."

"Hmm…how about you just aren't allowed to have any dessert tonight, and then we'll call it even?" Sirius suggested.

"Sounds good," said Harry, giving Sirius a rather watery smile and making to stand up, but Sirius pulled him back down.

"Listen, Harry," Sirius said, and this time he truly did look, well, serious. "I know you kind of surprised yourself with the mood swings earlier. But I want you to keep in mind that you have nothing to feel ashamed of, okay?"

"I-I don't?"

"Nope," Sirius told him. "Almost _everybody_ goes through mood swings. They're normal. And like I said, your life has been pretty stressful lately…Trust me, everything's fine."

Harry thought about this for a moment, and it did make him feel at least a little better.

"Thanks, Sirius," he said.

"No problem," Sirius replied, standing up. "Tell you what...if you help me dial the phone and schedule the physical, we can make spaghetti and meatballs tonight. I'll boil the pasta and you can roll the meatballs."

"Okay!" Harry suddenly realized then how hungry he was, and the two of them headed for the phone.


	23. Dr Grant

Harry and Sirius were able to set the date of the physical for August 14, which would be that Wednesday; Harry was a little dismayed when the person they spoke to on the phone told him he would probably have to be hospitalized for two to three days.

"Why?" he said. "I'm fine!"

"Since this is a child abuse case, the exam will be extensive," the nurse on the phone explained. "You'll have your regular physical on Wednesday, but your doctor will most likely order additional tests."

"Who's his doctor?" asked Sirius.

"Mr. Potter will be seen by Dr. Grant," replied the nurse, "and don't you worry, because Dr. Grant is one of our most qualified pediatricians—and has been for twenty years."

…

On Wednesday morning, Harry grabbed his school bag, in which he had packed some clothes and things for the next couple days he might spend in the hospital. He didn't pack his Prongs toy, even though it might have helped him sleep, because he didn't want people thinking he was a baby.

Mostly, Harry was nervous about meeting Dr. Grant. He kept thinking of the intense medical dramas he had seen on TV. What if Dr. Grant was some sort of sadist, and ordered a bunch of painful tests? Well…he would do that anyway, even if he wasn't a sadist, because Harry did need those tests...

By the time Sirius and Harry got to the waiting room of a children's hospital in London, Harry had Dr. Grant fully envisioned in his head—a evil-looking man with devil horns, wearing glasses and a bloodstained white doctor's smock, brandishing a ten-foot-long needle.

"You look a bit peaky, Harry," Sirius commented as they walked to the front desk.

"Imagine that," said Harry hoarsely.

"Name?" the secretary asked.

"Black," Sirius replied. "We're here for Harry Potter's court-ordered exams."

"Oh yes…" Frowning, the secretary looked up the appointment. "Very well. Have a seat; Dr. Grant will be right with you."

Harry tried to read the magazines in the waiting room (even though they were at least ten years old) but he was too nervous. So he just waited and waited, his stomach tied in knots. And then…

"Mr. Potter?"

Harry was surprised at who he saw in the doorway. Dr. Grant wasn't an evil-looking man with devil horns; in fact, Dr. Grant wasn't a man at all. She was a woman, and she was smiling. Not in an evil way. Just in a nice way. The way Aunt Petunia smiled at Dudley.

"H-Hi," said Harry, still scared.

"You must be Harry," she said kindly, reaching out her hand to shake. "I'm Dr. Elizabeth Grant. Nice to meet you."

"N-Nice to meet you too," Harry told her timidly.

"And you must be Harry's godfather, Sirius Black?" Dr. Grant stuck out her hand a second time, and Sirius shook hands too.

"Yes," he said. "It's a pleasure to meet you. Harry's never been to see the doctor before."

"Well, there's nothing to be afraid of," she said, beckoning the two of them to follow her down a long hallway until they reached her office. She pulled up a chair for Harry, and sat behind her desk; Sirius just stood, hands in his pockets. Harry was beginning to be just a little less afraid of Dr. Grant. She looked to be around her mid-to-late forties; her eyes were a twinkling blue behind her glasses, sort of like Dumbledore's, and her hair was dyed blonde. Her face was a little wrinkled, but you could tell that her wrinkles were only where the smiles had been.

"So…what's the plan for today?" said Sirius.

"Well, first I should ask you some questions about your health, for some background," Dr. Grant began. "For instance…since he's never been to the doctor, I assume he hasn't had his shots?"

"No, his parents took him to the doctor to get his shots when he was a baby," said Sirius. "But he needs his booster shots, I expect."

"I see," said Dr. Grant, nodding and writing something on a clipboard. "We'll also have to draw some blood, of course…Don't look so worried," she added at the look on Harry's face. "We just need to test for malnutrition and vitamin deficiencies…you may have some problems in those areas.

"All right…any recent infections, trauma, illnesses, that sort of thing?" she continued.

"He had a bad bout of flu about a month ago," Sirius told her. "But he's fully recovered. Other than that…?"

"No," said Harry, "there isn't anything."

"Do you have a family history of any serious diseases?" Dr. Grant directed the question at Sirius, who shook his head.

"I'm afraid I know very little about Harry's mother's side of the family, but I knew his father's parents well, and they were pretty healthy overall, no serious hereditary conditions I can think of," said Sirius. "They didn't die natural deaths, but they died of a viral infection as opposed to something hereditary, so that isn't anything we have to worry about…James, Harry's father, was a miracle baby—but I think that was just because his parents were almost old enough to be his grandparents."

"What's a miracle baby?" said Harry.

"It's when a woman is having trouble getting pregnant, or is unlikely to, but then she does," Dr. Grant explained. "But…his parents themselves had no such problems?"

"None at all," said Sirius. "By contrast, Harry was actually unplanned."

"Oh, so _that's_ why they had to get married so young," said Harry.

"Watch a lot of TV, do you?" Sirius said back.

"It's important that we discuss those habits, too," Dr. Grant continued. "Does he watch too much TV? Does he get enough sleep? Do you have a set bedtime for him, Mr. Black?"

"I didn't really need to set one, because he just goes to bed at nine every night on his own," said Sirius. "I think he watched a lot of TV with his aunt and uncle, but that was only because they watched it and never let him have the TV. Right?"

"Yeah," said Harry, "and they turned up the volume really loud, so even when I was locked in my cupboard, I could still hear it. Sirius and I watch TV, but I don't think we watch too much."

"It's recommended for teens and preteens to get about nine hours of sleep per night," Dr. Grant told them. She had looked a little disturbed when she heard about Harry's former living quarters, but she didn't say anything. Instead, she told Harry it was time to get weighed and measured.

Harry was infuriated to find that even though he weighed a little more than when he had first met Sirius, he hadn't grown one bit taller.

"Why can't I grow?" Harry said in frustration, resisting the urge to stamp his foot.

"Well, any sign of puberty yet?" Dr. Grant asked.

"I don't know," said Harry. "Why?"

"Because you likely haven't hit your growth spurt yet," she explained. "That sort of thing usually runs in families."

"Well, then, he can probably expect to hit puberty pretty soon, but I don't think we'll see any drastic height difference until he's about thirteen," said Sirius. "I first met James when he was Harry's age—eleven. He was a little taller and weighed more than Harry does now, but he was deeply loved and properly nourished. In a few years his son will have caught up."

"What about his mother?" said Dr. Grant.

"She was about average," Sirius replied. "So at least we can agree that Harry _will_ grow."

"I'm still going to prescribe a growth supplement for him, though," Dr. Grant told him. "He's still very far behind the growth curve for boys his age. Just take the supplement twice per day for eight weeks. Don't worry, though…" Dr. Grant smiled at Harry. "It comes in kid-approved flavors."

After that, Dr. Grant told Harry she needed to "take his vitals". This sounded more threatening than it actually was. She just recorded his blood pressure and listened to his heart and breathing, took his temperature, and tested his reflexes. When Dr. Grant was looking down his throat, she asked if Harry had been to the dentist.

"No, but he brushes his teeth very well," said Sirius.

"You still need to take him to the dentist, though, in case he has cavities or anything," Dr. Grant said. "Better safe than sorry."

"All right, I'll make an appointment for him to see the dentist before he goes off to school," Sirius replied.

"Now, I need you to be very brave for this next part, Harry," said Dr. Grant in a serious voice.

"What is it?" Harry asked, already dreading whatever it was.

"Shots," she said steadily.

"And not the kind you take at the bar," Sirius added, trying to make a joke of it.

"How many shots do I need?" Harry asked.

"Your godfather has provided the hospital with a list of vaccinations you had received by your last doctor's appointment, when you were fifteen months old," Dr. Grant told him. "Most of these require booster shots, however…so I'm afraid you will be getting a lot of shots today. We won't be doing the blood work until tomorrow."

"Is it going to hurt?" Harry's voice was shaking now.

"Just a little," said Dr. Grant.

"Don't look," Sirius added.

"Sirius, will you…?" Harry stuck out his hand, and Sirius held it; then Harry squeezed his eyes shut. Everyone always said you got butterflies in your stomach when you were nervous, but it didn't really feel like that. It felt more like a jump or a lurch. And it kept happening as Harry anticipated the shot.

"Ready?" Dr. Grant was heard saying.

No, of course Harry wasn't ready. But he nodded anyway; he wasn't a baby either. No matter how much it hurt, he wouldn't make a sound, he would just sit here on the exam table and—

"OWWWW!" Harry howled.

That _did_ hurt—and more than just a little! It felt like when Dudley poked Harry with Aunt Petunia's sewing needles (something he had really enjoyed doing).

"Hold still," said Sirius, putting his other hand on Harry's shoulder. "It's almost over."

"There we are…" Dr. Grant put a Band-Aid on Harry's arm, then got her next shot.

"Those hurt," Harry told her, still clinging onto Sirius's hand as tight as he could, as if that could stop the shots from hurting.

"I'm sorry, Harry, but you need these vaccines," Dr. Grant said. "With each year you put off your booster shots, the more likely you are to get sick."

Harry didn't want to get sick, so he closed his eyes again and let her get on with it. The next shot hurt just as much as the first, only it was kind of worse, because Harry knew it would hurt this time.

"You're being very brave, Harry," said Sirius solemnly, still holding tightly onto Harry's hand.

Harry didn't think he was being brave at all, but he appreciated Sirius's words anyway. It seemed like forever before Dr. Grant was finally finished administering all her shots to Harry. They all hurt like hell. Harry finally— _finally!_ —hopped down off the exam table, feeling like a pincushion.

"Good job, Harry," said Dr. Grant, patting him on the shoulder. "Now you won't need any more boosters until you're in your teens."

"Okay," said Harry; his stomach was settling down, although he was trying not to look at the many Band-Aids on his arm.

"When younger children get shots, I usually give them toys or candy," Dr. Grant said, grinning. "But I daresay you're far too old for such rewards now…?"

"I-I could take some chocolate, I guess," said Harry.

"No problem," Dr. Grant said, and offered him his choice of candy bars, all full-size. Harry chose a huge chocolate bar and he had to admit, it did make the pain of the shots go away a little.

"You don't think I could have one too, do you?" Sirius asked.

"Not unless you get a shot too," said Dr. Grant jokingly, and they all laughed.


	24. Test Monkey

Harry spent that night in the hospital. He ended up wanting his Prongs toy, because it was dark and scary and the beeping machines freaked him out. There was always something going on, too, since people getting sick and injured didn't stop just because work hours were over. The hospital smelled like rubbing alcohol, too, which wasn't very pleasant.

When Harry woke up the next morning, Sirius was collapsed in a chair beside the hospital bed, fast asleep and snoring loudly, still in his clothes from the day before. Harry said his name, and he awoke with a start.

"G'morning," he mumbled, smiling sleepily.

"Have you been here all night?" Harry asked him.

"Yeah," said Sirius. "I insisted on it, and finally the staff agreed, but only because I'm your guardian."

"That was nice of you," said Harry, who was relieved; he didn't know what he would do if he had to stay in the hospital overnight without Sirius by his side. "Staying overnight kind of freaked me out."

"I only Apparated home once, to get a change of clothes," Sirius added, gesturing to his enchanted pockets. "Now I just need to find a hot nurse and convince her I've got two broken arms and can't wash myself. Or maybe two, so the other one can feed me ice cream."

"Sirius!" Harry said reprovingly. "You already have a girlfriend!"

"Ah, so I do," said Sirius, stroking his four-day-old stubble thoughtfully. "But will they let me bring a nurse's uniform home?"

Harry glared at him, then said, "You weren't really flirting with any of the nurses, were you?"

"No," said Sirius, and this time he did look, well, serious. "Barbara is the first woman I've ever thought about having a future with. There's no way I'm going to mess it up."

"Hmm…who are you and what have you done with the Padfoot I know?" said a voice from the doorway, and Sirius jumped up, grinning.

"Moony!" he said, striding to the doorway. "How nice of you to visit us."

"Not a problem at all," Remus replied, smiling and walking into the room. He was holding a colorful bouquet of flowers. "How's the patient?"

"Um, fine," said Harry. "Thanks for the flowers."

"I didn't know you were so good at that spell," Sirius added. "I thought you could only do roses."

"You thought right," said Remus. "I hand-picked these from my flower garden at Crescent Cottage."

"Wow!" Harry smiled. "That really makes them special."

After the flowers had been put in a vase, Remus sat on the edge of Harry's bed and they talked.

"Like I said, that was a very mature thing you said about Barbara, Sirius," said Remus. "I might have been wrong about you two."

"Well, there's nothing more meaningful than the approval of a friend," Sirius replied.

"I'm hungry," said Harry.

"Well, breakfast is over, so here's the lunch menu," said Sirius, handing it to Harry. "Just press the little button by the bed—that calls for the nurse. Barbara says to order off the Kosher menu, though. She says it has higher-quality food."

Harry ordered Kosher macaroni and cheese, three servings of it so Remus and Sirius could have some, too. When they were done eating, the nurse told Harry that his "tests" would begin at noon.

"Tests?" Harry asked nervously.

"You know, getting your blood drawn, the CAT scan, the X-rays, your eye exam…"

"I see," said Harry, trying to sound relaxed. "Will it be Dr. Grant performing all those tests?"

"No," said the nurse. "It will be a variety of people."

"Thanks," said Harry, and she left. Then he turned to his godfather. "Sirius…?"

"Don't worry," Sirius said, grasping Harry's hand. "It'll be over soon. Remus and I will be there the whole time, okay?"

"Well…okay," said Harry, still not entirely sure about this.

…

The nurse was as good—or as bad—as her word. Around noon, a different nurse came in and told Harry it was time to do the blood test. Harry nodded and Sirius helped him out of bed. Luckily, he didn't have to wear one of those hospital gowns that made you feel more naked than you actually were; he was just wearing pajamas, and he changed into new clothes in the bathroom before he went to the blood-testing lab with Remus, Sirius and his nurse.

When they got to the blood-testing room, which also smelled unpleasantly of rubbing alcohol, it was like the shots all over again, only worse. The test tubes were already on a counter next to the blood-testing chair where Harry was supposed to sit.

"Make a fist, please," said the nurse, and Harry did, as she strapped on some gloves and then tied a piece of rubber around the top of his arm (it was uncomfortably tight).

"Why are you doing that?" he asked.

"It makes the vein pop out more," she explained casually, getting her supplies. "So…how was your summer, Harry?"

"Um…fine," said Harry, wondering why she was asking him about his summer vacation when she was about to stick a needle the size of a javelin into his arm. Harry grabbed Sirius's hand again and squeezed it as if he was drowning, his teeth clenched; then he felt the pinch in his arm, and tried not to cry out again.

Soon enough, though, it was over; in fact, it hurt a lot less than Dr. Grant's shots. The nurse carefully pulled the needle out and placed a cotton ball and a piece of medical tape over the puncture wound. Harry tried not to look at the test tubes that were full of his own dark red blood.

"There you go," said the nurse brightly. "Now, that wasn't so bad, was it?"

"No," said Harry truthfully, letting go of Sirius's hand. The nurse beamed.

"I think it's really great what you two are doing, you know," she told Sirius and Remus. "Come to think of it…my brother and his boyfriend are looking to adopt too. What adoption agency did you two use?"

Remus immediately turned as red as the test tubes and started stammering incoherently, but Sirius swooped his arm around his friend's shoulders and said, "Oh yes, we do make a lovely couple, don't we?"

"Sirius!" cried Remus.

"Most people say he's the 'woman' in the relationship," Sirius continued, "and I must say, I agree. What do you think?"

Harry was grinning. Remus looked mortified.

"Excuse me, ma'am, but you are mistaken," he said. "Harry is Sirius's godson, the son of an old family friend. And he has a girlfriend."

"But don't worry; you're not the first person to make that mistake, and you probably won't be the last," Sirius told the nurse comfortingly, as she had now turned as red as Remus and was delivering a very flustered apology.

"But then…who wouldn't want to adopt me?" Harry said jokingly, trying to make her feel better about it.

After the blood tests, Harry got some food from the hospital cafeteria, because the nurse said he needed food right away in order to make new blood (or something like that). Then they did an X-ray—that was all right. It was the first time Harry had ever seen his bones, so it was kind of cool. But then they did a "bone scan", which turned out to mean yet another needle poked into Harry, the human pincushion.

"Another needle?" Harry asked incredulously.

"This is radioactive material injected into your veins via IV, or intravenous," the nurse explained. "It will attach itself to any crack or chip in your bones that the X-ray might have missed."

None of Harry's bones were broken, cracked or chipped. They gave him an eye exam, and then told him he would be having the last of the tests—an MRI and a CAT scan—the next day.

"Then he can be discharged from the hospital?" said Sirius.

"Absolutely," said the nurse. "Harry will be back home this time tomorrow."

…

The MRI and the CAT scan weren't so bad. They didn't hurt; Harry was just glad that after they were over, the tests would be too. When everything was finally through (around three in the afternoon), Harry checked out of the hospital, Sirius not far behind him.

"Want to go out for dinner?" Sirius offered. "I think you deserve a treat after all that."

"Sure!" Harry said brightly. "Can we have pizza?"

"Anything you want," Sirius replied.


	25. Magic Practice

Harry and Sirius went to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries to get Harry's magical booster shots over the weekend—and after that, the shots really were through. Next up was, as Dr. Grant had suggested, Harry's dentist appointment. Just like they had with Bunsen and Barnes, LLP, they found a dental hygienist in the phone book.

Sirius was getting good at using the phone by now, so after he and Harry picked out a family-owned dental business owned by a young couple (it had very good reviews, and the couple looked nice enough), he was able to arrange everything flawlessly.

Harry, however, was nervous for his first dentist appointment, so when he and Sirius landed in the parking lot Tuesday afternoon, he was reluctant to go inside.

"Did my parents take me to the dentist before?" Harry asked.

"No," said Sirius. "They were planning to do so after your second birthday, but…something came up."

Sirius looked sad, and Harry nodded in understanding. Unlike the doctor's, this was the REAL first time he had been to the dentist.

There weren't a lot of patients in the dentist's waiting room at this time of day. Besides Harry and Sirius, there was a young couple, their toddler playing with the waiting room toys, a surly-looking teenager with braces and a girl Harry's age reading the latest issue of _The Economist_.

Harry wasn't particularly happy about going to the dentist, but there was one good thing about visiting Muggle-inhabited places—nobody recognized him there. To the Muggle community, he was just another person, not the Boy Who Lived.

Or so he thought.

When the hygienist walked into the waiting room and said Harry's name, the girl reading _The Economist_ jumped as if her seat had suddenly caught fire. She lowered the magazine and stared around, her brown eyes finally falling on Harry. She mouthed, "Are you really?"

"Um…yes," Harry said, but as she opened her mouth to speak, the dentist repeated his name, and Sirius nudged him to stand up.

"Do you want me to come with you?" Sirius asked.

"Um…yeah, sure," said Harry. Sirius got up too, and they followed the dentist down the hall and into the examination room.

Harry didn't think anything could hurt worse than his shots, but his teeth-cleaning was downright painful. After it was finally over, the dentist handed him a toothbrush, some mouthwash and dental floss, and told him to go to the waiting room while she and Sirius discussed his "diagnosis".

"Okay," said Harry.

When he got back into the waiting room, there was the same girl from before, waiting for him. The first thing she said was, "I've read ALL about you!"

"You—you have?"

"Of course! I'm Hermione Granger, by the way," said the girl, reaching out to shake hands. She had loads of bushy brown hair, large front teeth, and a bossy voice.

"I'm Harry Potter," Harry unnecessarily. "Well, you know that already…"

"I do," she said excitedly, and then lowered her voice so that the couple and the teenager couldn't hear her. "In Diagon Alley I got some extra books for background reading, and you're in _Modern Magical History_ and _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_ and _Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century_."

Sirius had warned Harry about being famous, but he was in books, too? This was crazy!

"For as long as I can remember, I never knew I was special," he told her. "I mean, I could always do weird stuff that I couldn't explain, but that was just it, I couldn't explain it. Then one day my godfather turns up and tells me I'm a wizard."

"What's your godfather's name?" Hermione asked.

"Sirius Black."

"Oh!" Hermione's brown eyes grew wide. "I know that name—he was in some of those books, too!"

"Yeah, he was framed for murder, and for a while everyone thought he was a Dark wizard," Harry told her. "So he would be."

"Framed?" she repeated. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I imagine those books are a little outdated now, because—er, you know what a Pensieve is, right?" Harry figured that if Hermione knew just as much about his story as he did, she would know about magical objects as well. And sure enough—

"Of course."

"They used a Pensieve to bring up Sirius's real memories of that day," Harry began, and he told Hermione the true story. Her eyes grew even wider as she listened. Harry ended the story by telling her about how Sirius had rescued Harry from the Muggles, and that they lived together now.

"That's amazing!" she said. "I'm sorry your aunt and uncle were so mean to you. I promise not all Muggles are like that. My parents are Muggles and they're lovely people."

"Oh, I know," said Harry. "I'm sure Muggles are just like witches and wizards and Squibs—there are bad ones and good ones. I have a Squib neighbor. She's weird, but not mean. She likes cats."

"I like cats too," said Hermione. "I've always wanted one."

"So…what are you doing here?" Harry asked her, and they both sat down. "Getting your teeth cleaned, too?"

"No, my parents couldn't find me a babysitter," said Hermione, rolling her eyes. "I've tried to convince them I can stay at home on my own now that I'm almost twelve, but they're a little protective."

"Almost twelve…" Harry frowned. "Does that mean you'll be a second year at Hogwarts?"

"No, I just have a really early birthday, so I'm going into my first year too," she replied. "I got my letter last July, and it was such a surprise, but I was ever so pleased—it's the best school of witchcraft there is, I've heard. I've learned all our course books by heart…I just hope it will be enough."

"I'm sure it will be," said Harry. "I mean, I haven't memorized my course books."

"Have you tried out any spells?" Hermione asked. "I have, and they've all worked well for me."

"I haven't," Harry admitted, but then he had an idea. "But maybe…you know, after your parents and Sirius are done with my diagnosis…we could hang out and practice?"

Harry was afraid she would say no, but he was surprised at how she brightened at his suggestion.

"Oh, that sounds lovely!" she replied. "I've got my wand right here! I always carry mine with me, do you? I do hope Sirius will let me join you, it's not as if he knows me, I promise I'll be a great guest."

"As long as you don't accuse him of being a murderer or anything, I think you'll be fine," Harry told her, grinning. Only a few moments later, Sirius and Mr. and Mrs. Granger stepped into the waiting room, each of them smiling.

"So I see you've met our daughter, Hermione," said Mr. Granger. "How nice."

"Harry is nice, Father," Hermione said back, beaming. "In fact, we were wondering if perhaps I could visit him at his flat for a few hours. We want to go over our books for school. He's going to Hogwarts, too."

Sirius's eyes widened as he looked back and forth between Harry and Hermione a few times, but then he smiled.

"If it's okay with Hermione's parents, it's fine with me," he said. "Guests are always welcome."

"Another…another one!" If Sirius looked surprised, it was nothing compared to Hermione's parents. However, it seemed to be pleasant surprise. Harry thought they looked happy to see Hermione making a friend.

"We'll have her back by dinnertime," said Sirius.

"Thank you, Mr. Black," said Mrs. Granger, bending down to kiss Hermione on the cheek. "Have fun, dear."

"I will, Mother," said Hermione brightly.

"So…you're a witch, eh?" Sirius asked casually as they exited the dentist's office.

"Oh yes," said Hermione. "Since then I've tried to learn everything I could about the Wizarding world, you know, I hope it will be enough, I was just telling Harry…"

"I can help you there," Sirius told her. "I grew up in a wizard family. I've been teaching Harry all about the Wizarding world, and if you want, I could teach you about it too."

"That would be wonderful!" said Hermione, clasping her hands together in sheer delight. "You're the first real wizard I've ever met, the first fully-trained one, that is! I thought I wouldn't get to meet any until I got to Hogwarts and met my teachers."

"I'm honored," said Sirius. "But the teachers won't disappoint, either. I hope McGonagall is still there. She can be strict, but she's an amazing witch. And even though she's strict, she's fair."

"So how did you get here?" Hermione asked, as they got to the parking lot. "Car, I suppose?"

"My flying motorcycle," Sirius said proudly, gesturing to it.

Hermione turned pale.

"What's the matter?" Harry asked, concerned.

"I-I'm a little scared of flying," she admitted.

"No need to worry," Sirius told her. "I can just drive on the road, like I do with my Muggle girlfriend. But since there are three of us, we'll probably need…"

Sirius flicked his wand, and a sidecar became attached to the motorcycle.

"Oh, wow!" said Hermione.

"I'll ride in the sidecar," Harry offered, of course because he wanted to be polite to Hermione, but also because he was actually a little smaller than she was. Hopefully this would change after he started taking Dr. Grant's growth supplements.

"Very well," said Sirius. "Here we go."

This was the first time Harry had driven on the road in Sirius's motorcycle. It wasn't exactly the same, but he didn't want to make Hermione do something she was afraid of doing. Sirius kicked the engine to life, and they headed home.

…

As soon as Harry, Hermione and Sirius entered the flat, Sirius asked Hermione what she wanted for dinner, but she seemed flustered at this and told him it was his choice. Sirius, in turn, told her that she was the guest and therefore dinner was her pick tonight.

"Why don't you try some of Barbara's brownies?" Harry suggested.

"For one thing, you ate them all, and another thing, brownies aren't dinner," said Sirius, but he was grinning. "I could invite her over, though, if you two don't mind. She's a much better cook than I am."

"Excuse me," said Hermione, "but who's Barbara?"

"My Muggle girlfriend," Sirius told her. "Would you and Harry be okay with her cooking dinner for us?"

"I wouldn't mind meeting her, not at all," said Hermione. "What about you, Harry?"

"Sure," said Harry, "as long as she bakes more brownies."

The pair of them raced to Harry's room to study magic after that (Harry hurriedly stuffed his Prongs toy under the bed). He pulled his wand out of his pocket and grabbed _The Standard Book of Spells_ , _Grade 1_ out of his bookbag. Then he asked Hermione which spell she would like to practice first.

"How about the _Alohamora_ charm?" she suggested. "It opens locked doors, windows—anything that can be locked, really."

Harry remembered how Sirius used to unlock the Dursleys' door with magic. Could Hermione do that spell, too? He led Hermione out of his room, and locked the door behind them. "Show me how it's done."

" _Alohamora!"_ said Hermione, pointing her wand at the locked door, which sprung open. Harry was quite impressed. "Now you try."

"Okay," said Harry, feeling a little nervous, as this was the first spell he'd ever tried. They locked the door again, and Harry attempted the spell— _"Alohamora!"_

No luck. Harry felt his face start to get hot. Maybe he wouldn't be such a good wizard after all…

"It's okay," said Hermione. "Let's try a different one, the Hover Charm."

"Fine," said Harry dejectedly. Hermione magically unlocked his room door again, and they sat down on Harry's bed.

"Right now. The bigger and heavier the object, the harder it is to make it levitate," said Hermione, grabbing a ballpoint pen from Harry's desk. "So we should start with something small and light, like this pen. Do it like this— _Wingardium Leviosa!"_

The pen floated up into the air. Hermione let it hover for a moment, then let it down.

" _Wingardium Leviosa!"_ said Harry, waving his wand. The pen twitched slightly.

"See, it's not so much of a wave, more of a swish-and-flick," said Hermione, demonstrating with her wand. "Swish and flick."

"Swish and flick," said Harry, trying to imitate her movements. He was feeling more idiotic by the moment. _"Wingardium Leviosa_. _Wingardium Leviosa!"_

Still, the pen just gave a feeble sort of jump.

"Well, that's something," said Hermione.

"It's just like I thought," Harry said glumly. "I'm never going to be a good wizard."

"Don't say that," Hermione insisted. "You just have to keep practicing!"

Harry didn't really feel like practicing magic any longer, at least not with someone who seemed much better at it than he was, so he was glad when they were interrupted by the sound of footsteps. Sirius was standing in the doorway, looking mildly interested.

"Doing magic, huh?" he said, looking at their wands.

"She is," Harry replied. "I was utterly useless at it."

"What spells did you try?" Sirius asked, sitting down on the bed.

"We tried _Alohamora_ and _Wingardium Leviosa_ ," Hermione told Sirius. "Harry didn't manage to unlock the door but he almost levitated a ballpoint pen."

"Hmm…maybe we just want to switch gears for a little," Sirius said thoughtfully, then grinned. "I could teach you some offensive and defensive magic instead. You never know when that might come in handy."

Hermione looked like Christmas had come early. She seemed very pleased that they got to learn from a fully-trained wizard.

"What will you teach us?" she gasped.

"Well, a lot of offensive and defensive magic is pretty advanced, and not something a lot of first years could do," said Sirius, getting to his feet and rolling up his sleeves. "But there's still got to be a few…let's see now…"

"Maybe you could just show us," Harry offered; he, like Hermione, was very anxious to see offensive and defensive magic—well, he liked to watch Sirius do magic in general, really, but this was exciting.

"I don't want to hex either of you," said Sirius. "Are you sure?"

"Do it! I want to be hexed!" Hermione told him eagerly, jumping up and down. "As…as long as you can fix it, of course."

"Hmm…think you can handle a simple Leg-Locker Curse?" Sirius asked hesitantly.

"Oh yes, I've read about that one! It was in one of the books I got for background reading! Here—" Hermione pointed her wand at Sirius and said, " _Locomotor Mortis!"_

Sirius froze from the waist down. But he beamed, and so did Hermione.

"Good job," said Sirius, pointing his wand at his legs and saying quietly, " _Finite_ ", which freed him instantly.

"Yeah," said Harry, impressed. "Good job."

"Know any more?" Sirius asked.

"We want to see _you_ do some, Sirius," said Harry earnestly.

"Do something really advanced," Hermione added. "Something I won't be able to do."

"That'll be hard," Sirius told her with a grin. "Some of the spells that just came to mind would destroy this flat, and my Muggle girlfriend, Barbara, will be here any moment…eh, well, have you been able to Disarm anyone yet, Hermione?"

"I haven't tried," said Hermione. "But I could now! Isn't it _Expelliarmus_?"

"Yes," said Sirius, "but do you want to let Harry have a go at it first?"

"Oh…yeah." Hermione flushed a little, then smiled. "My teachers are always saying that—'let someone else answer for a change, Miss Granger.' Well, in that case, you go ahead, Harry."

All of a sudden, Harry felt as if he was onstage; he was very aware of Hermione and Sirius watching him.

"Your job," Sirius began, "is to make my wand fly out of my hand by saying this incantation: _Expelliarmus!"_

"O-Okay," said Harry, and he brandished his wand at Sirius. " _Expelliarmus!"_

Sirius's wand flew right out of his hand. Hermione cheered, and Sirius said enthusiastically, "Good job! See, I knew you could do it!"

"Try it on me now," said Hermione excitedly, darting in front of Harry; he Disarmed her as well.

"Do you think you can do it, Hermione?" asked Sirius, who had picked up his wand from the floor—only, of course, to be Disarmed again by both Harry and Hermione. Two spells at once blasted him backwards onto the bed, and he got up, laughing.

"I'm very proud," he told them, just as someone knocked on the door. "Ah, that'll be Barbara. She's making spaghetti and meatballs tonight, with chocolate pie for dessert."

Sirius picked up his wand again, smiled at them, and left the room.

"Is Barbara nice?" Hermione asked, sitting down on the bed and setting her wand next to her.

"She's…she's all right," said Harry. "Why do you ask?"

"I don't know," said Hermione. "I've just…never had a girlfriend, that's all. It can get kind of lonely."

"So all your friends are boys?"

"No, all my friends are nonexistent," said Hermione sardonically. "I think the kids at my school think I'm a little strange, you know…a teacher's pet…"

"But you're really nice, too," said Harry, "and smart. I can tell you'll be a very powerful witch. Sirius says it doesn't matter if you come from a Muggle or pureblood family. You've of talent—and with some training—"

"Thank you, Harry," she said, looking a little embarrassed, but flattered. "I just hope I do well at Hogwarts."

"I hope I do, too," Harry admitted. "I don't really have any friends either."

"We could be friends," said Hermione shyly, tentatively, as if she expected him to refuse, to tell her he would never want to be friends. "If—if you want to, I mean."

"Of course," said Harry. "Now we know we'll each have at least one friend when we get there. I hope you're in Gryffindor with me."

"Gryffindor does sound the best, from what I've read in _Hogwarts, A History_ ," said Hermione. "Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad either, though."

Hermione smiled slightly. "Listen, do you…do you want to work on magic again?"

"Sure." Harry grabbed his wand and stood up. "Maybe you can teach me that…that Locomotive Mortim or whatever it was."

" _Locomotor Mortis_ ," said Hermione, and laughed.

…

Harry and Hermione spent the next fifteen or so minutes practicing magic. Harry became very good at the Disarming spell Sirius had showed them. Hermione convinced him to go back to _Wingardium Leviosa_ , and eventually, he had been able to make his pillow float. Sirius walked in just as Hermione was trying to levitate the bed.

"Okay, you two, class is over," said Sirius jokingly. "Time for dinner."

Harry jumped off the bed and raced to the kitchen (Barbara's cooking was sure to be as delicious as ever). Hermione went more slowly, seeming nervous.

"H-Hi," she said to Barbara.

"Why, hello there," said Barbara kindly. "You must be Hermione Granger."

Harry thought Barbara looked kind of pretty. Her dark hair was tightly curled, and she was wearing gold hoop earrings with a matching gold necklace; the pendant was a sideways heart, encrusted with diamonds (probably fake, but they looked just like real diamonds). Barbara didn't normally wear a lot of makeup, but she was wearing lip gloss and bronze eyeshadow, which highlighted her hazel eyes. Her nails were painted bright pink. Her skirtsuit was baby-blue, and she was wearing black high heels.

"Yes, I am," said Hermione. "Your hair looks nice. I can never get mine to do anything cool."

"You'd be amazed at what you can do with the right hair products and styling tools," Barbara said, gesturing to her hair. "I used a curling iron for this, y'know…and I have to use a special shampoo for long, thick hair." She paused, then smiled. "I could give you a makeover sometime, if you'd like. Just for fun."

"Oh, um…sure!" said Hermione, brightening. "That does sound fun."

"These meatballs are fantastic, Barbara," Sirius told her through a mouthful of beef. "I don't know how you do it."

"Cooking's just my talent, I guess," she replied. "I'm not really good at anything else."

"Don't be so modest," said Sirius, winking, and she giggled.

…

After dinner, Barbara left to go back to her own flat. Sirius took Hermione home in a cab this time, so that none of them would have to ride in a sidecar. Hermione smiled sweetly at Harry as they got into the cab.

"How come you don't smile with your teeth?" Harry asked her.

"Oh…" Hermione turned a little pink. "People tease me for my teeth, you know…sometimes they call me Beaver Girl. I don't want to give them ammunition, so I stopped smiling with my teeth."

"That's terrible," Harry said angrily, remembering how it had made him feel when people made fun of his appearance. "Why do kids tease about things like that?"

"I don't know," said Hermione. "I'm supposed to get my braces next year, but I don't think that will be such a good idea, either. They'll probably call me 'Metal-Mouth' or something."

"Nah," said Sirius thoughtfully. "I'm sure there's some way to shrink your teeth by magic."

"It wouldn't be good to do it without my parents' permission," Hermione told him. "Thanks, though."

"Well, anyway, you can always smile with your teeth when you're around me," Harry told Hermione. "Because we're friends, and friends don't care about little things like that. Right, Sirius?"

"Right," said Sirius.

Hermione smiled again, this time with teeth, and Harry thought it was a pretty smile anyway, even if her teeth were a bit overlarge. When the taxi dropped her off by her building, he was sad to see her go.

"Thanks for having me over," she said kindly. "I'll keep in touch. You've already got my parents' phone number, haven't you?"

"We have," Sirius replied. "Goodnight, Hermione."

"Goodnight," she said, shutting the door, and the cabbie drove off. Harry and Sirius practiced the Disarming Charm a little more that night, but it wasn't quite the same.


	26. The Brain Probe

**ATTENTION! ***PLEASE READ THE UPDATE/AUTHOR'S NOTE AT THE BOTTOM. THANK YOU.*****

Harry's psychiatric exam was on August 22, 1991, which was that Thursday, and only a few days before the court date, which was now officially on August 26. Harry was glad his physical exams were in the rearview mirror, but he still had trepidations about having his mind analyzed. So he asked Sirius how it was going to go as they walked across the parking lot.

"To be honest with you, I have no idea," Sirius told him.

"Don't wizards have psychiatry?" Harry asked.

"Nope."

"So…you don't believe that a person's mind can be unhealthy, just like their body?" Harry said in disbelief.

"Not exactly," said Sirius. "We know about mental illness. The person could be born like that, or maybe there was something very bad that happened to make them that way. But I didn't know people believed you could _fix_ people's brains. We just put them in St. Mungo's…now."

"What do you mean, 'now'?" said Harry.

"They used to just chuck them in Azkaban," said Sirius darkly.

"But…" Harry felt like his insides had been turned to ice. "Prison is for people who did something wrong."

"I know," said Sirius. "True, a lot of criminals do what they do because they're mentally ill. But I'm pretty sure most mentally ill people aren't harmful at all. These innocent people used to have to go to prison, right among the trash that society has thrown away, just because nobody really understood what was wrong with them. Many people in our society see them as freaks…something to be dealt with or contained…not human beings to be loved and cared for."

Harry looked up at Sirius, and saw that he looked sad.

"The whole point of Azkaban is to mentally torture people, isn't it?" said Harry. "You told me about the dementors! Wouldn't that just make the mentally ill people even worse, not better?"

"Like I said…" Sirius sighed. "Nobody really cares about making them better. When Mr. Glacier was telling me about psychiatry, I had to pretend I knew what he was talking about. I never knew there was medicine to take for stuff like that. I never knew about therapy or hypnosis. It was crazy. I was brought up thinking that there was nothing to be done."

"There's a lot of stuff that can be done," said Harry. "What does the Wizarding community usually do if somebody, say…has depression?"

"What's that?"

Harry sighed. It was true.

"Well, it's kind of like when you feel sad," Harry explained. "Only it's like…extreme sadness."

"But everybody feels sad sometimes," said Sirius.

"I know, but people with depression are sad _all_ the time," Harry told him. "And there's other stuff, too. They stop doing things they used to enjoy, they eat too much or too little, they may tragically turn to drugs or alcohol…We learned about mental disorders at school in Science class, during our psychology unit."

"Oh." Sirius frowned. "I guess so."

"What would happen to the depressed person, then?" Harry asked.

"Well, I don't know," said Sirius. "Nothing, probably. They'd just stew in their own misery until they got better."

"Or until they killed themselves."

"Wow," said Sirius. "That _is_ depressing. You know, I think the Muggles may be ahead of us wizardkind in many more ways than we thought."

"Muggles don't put innocent people in prison just for having poor mental health, that's for sure," said Harry, as they walked into the psychiatric institute. Sirius politely held the door open for a little old lady, and then they found seats.

"Hmm, smells like a hotel in here," Sirius commented.

"I wouldn't know," said Harry. "I've never been in one."

The waiting room of the psychiatric institute didn't look that different from the doctor's office. They waited, mostly in silence, for the doctor who would be performing Harry's mental evaluation. Finally, the moment came when the psychiatrist stepped out of the room. He had a graying goatee, a bald head, and square glasses. He was wearing slacks, a vest and an overcoat, and he was carrying a clipboard.

"Harry Potter?" he said calmly.

"That's me." Harry stood up nervously.

"And you must be Sirius Black," the psychiatrist continued.

"You got it," said Sirius, reaching out to shake hands. "I'm his godfather and legal guardian."

"Pleasure," the shrink replied. "My name is Dr. Maurice Stefansen, and I will be doing your psychiatric evaluation today. Mr. Potter?"

"Yes?" said Harry.

"It is your choice whether or not to have your parent or guardian in the room during your evaluation," said Dr. Stefansen. "Some patients feel that they can be more open without the guardian listening to their words."

"Oh, no," said Harry, looking around at Sirius. "No, I-I definitely want him with me."

"Very well," Dr. Stefansen said, and he led them into his office. There were two chairs and one couch. Sirius and Dr. Stefansen sat down in the chairs, and Harry lay down on the couch, just like he'd seen patients do on TV.

"So…what do I do?" he asked, staring up at the ceiling.

"Our goal today is to discover what is lurking in your subconscious," said Dr. Stefansen. "For example, we need to know if your upbringing has affected you mentally, and if so, in what ways."

"How will you discover what's in my subconscious?" Harry looked at Dr. Stefansen, who was looking at his clipboard.

"Perhaps you can begin by telling me how you have been feeling lately," said Dr. Stefansen.

Harry didn't say anything. It had been hard enough realizing that he could open up to Sirius; there was no way he could tell this stranger anything personal.

"I-I don't like to talk about my feelings," he said.

"Talking about your feelings is very important, though," said Dr. Stefansen. "It's very unhealthy to keep everything all bottled up."

"He's not here to judge, Harry," Sirius added gently. "Just say what you feel."

"Pretend you're talking to a close friend," Dr. Stefansen suggested.

Harry tried to pretend that Dr. Stefansen wasn't sitting there with his clipboard, and that it was just him and Sirius. He thought about how this was his psychiatric evaluation—this meant that he couldn't just say any random thing; he would need to say things that would show Dr. Stefansen the health of his brain. But what things would he pick? How healthy _was_ his brain? He was pretty sure the point of this was to prove that the Dursleys had damaged him mentally, so he should say things that described how they had damaged him. But what would that be?

"I-I can't think of anything to say," Harry confessed. "If I was talking to a close friend, I don't think it would be this forced."

"Well, then, let's try a different tack," said Dr. Stefansen. "I will give you a pretend situation, and you will tell me how you would react to it. Your supposed reaction to the situations will help me in my evaluation."

"Okay," said Harry. "Have you got a situation?"

"Hmm…" Dr. Stefansen frowned. "Let's say you suddenly became famous. How would you deal with celebrity?"

This seemed oddly specific to Harry, and the corners of Sirius's mouth twitched slightly, but this was just a coincidence. Oh well, at least Harry knew for sure what his reaction would be.

"I wouldn't like it," he confessed. "I would want more than anything to just be a normal kid. I would hate it if every time I went into public people wanted to shake my hand or get my autograph or take a picture with me or whatever else they want. I would feel really horrible when people repeat my name and stare at me like I'm a zoo exhibit. People would probably think that being famous is so great, but it isn't. It stinks. Being normal is much better."

"Would it make you feel self-conscious or awkward?" Dr. Stefansen asked.

"Oh, yes," said Harry. "Very much so."

"Perhaps you have a problem with self-confidence," Dr. Stefansen suggested. "Mr. Black…did you observe anything unusual about him?"

Sirius looked uncertainly at Harry.

"It's okay," Harry said.

"Well, he said something to me back when we first met," Sirius admitted. "Something that shocked me. You know I love him like a son, and I told him that, and he asked me why, saying that he hadn't done anything to earn my love…I had to explain that love isn't something that has to be earned. Those horrible people convinced him that he doesn't deserve to be loved at all, Dr. Stefansen. I would also say that he's got some trust issues, and I definitely agree that he has self-confidence issues. The fact that Harry finds it hard to embrace the fame, and hides from it instead, really indicates that. We've been trying to work on it, though."

"It's true," Harry told them sadly. "It's all true."

"I see," said Dr. Stefansen grimly. "Were there any times in particular when you felt that, for example, you had nobody to go to? When you felt lonely or hopeless?"

"There were a lot of those times before I met Sirius," said Harry.

"Were there any after that?"

For a minute, Harry wasn't sure. But then a certain memory came to mind, and before he could stop them, the words tumbled out of his mouth.

"Several weeks ago, I was going to dinner with Sirius, his girlfriend and a few other people," Harry began. "You remember that, right, Sirius?"

"Yeah."

"Well…I was sitting at the playpark before dinner…and I don't know why I watch the families, but I do." Harry swallowed. "And there was this one lady…she was a young mother kneeling on the cement at the bottom of the slide…and the toddler slid right into her arms…and I thought, if my parents hadn't died, would that have been me, sliding into my mother's arms?"

"You did, Harry, you did," said Sirius, a little helplessly, heading over to the couch and sitting by Harry. "Lily loved to take you to the playpark."

Harry didn't know if Sirius's words made him feel better or worse, but he did know that he had never felt so embarrassed in his life.

"Has anyone ever cried in your office before?" he asked tearfully.

"Certainly," said Dr. Stefansen. "Don't feel embarrassed. Crying is good for you. This is an indication that we are getting closer to our goal."

"Was our goal to make him cry?" said Sirius confusedly.

"Our goal was to reveal what is in his subconscious," Dr. Stefansen replied.

"It's no surprise that he would miss his parents, though, is it?" Sirius said. "That's not his subconscious. It's just his…regular old conscious."

"H-How can I m-miss someone I d-don't remember?!" Harry interrupted, burying his face in Sirius's shirt, able to fight back his tears only with his godfather's strong arms around him. No matter what Dr. Stefansen said, this was a disaster.

"You'd be surprised," Dr. Stefansen said calmly. "Just because you can't remember them doesn't mean you don't need them. Now that you have left the innocence and happiness of childhood and entered the tumultuous preteen years, you'll need guidance more than ever."

This was not something Harry needed to hear.

" _Tumultuous?"_ he repeated shrilly, and then he really did start to cry.

"Yes, tumultuous," said Dr. Stefansen. "It means—"

"I-I know what it m-means!" Harry told him. "B-Besides, I-I didn't h-have a h-happy childhood at all!"

"It's true," said Sirius. "He didn't. That's why he's here in the first place, remember?"

"All right, then, Mr. Potter," Dr. Stefansen replied. "Tell me about your childhood. Tell me how you _feel_ about it."

"How do you suppose he feels about it?!" Sirius cut in impatiently. "Angry, hurt, confused, unloved, unwanted—I don't suppose _you_ would understand!"

"Mr. Black, please calm down, or I will have to ask you to leave my office," Dr. Stefansen said in his maddeningly calm voice.

"No, don't!" Harry cried, squeezing Sirius as tight as he could.

"Don't worry, mate, I'm not going anywhere," said Sirius, and he glared at Dr. Stefansen. "I thought it would be _Harry's_ choice of whether I'm in the office, not yours."

"Well, you can't exactly speak for Harry, you know," Dr. Stefansen said back. "What would you know about having an unhappy childhood?"

"That, sir, is none of your business!" Sirius snapped, bristling. "Isn't this Harry's evaluation?"

"You're welcome to talk to me as well," said the shrink.

"I don't need an evaluation!" Sirius barked.

"Inside voice!" Dr. Stefansen told him.

Harry realized he had stopped crying, because he was now watching the row between Sirius and Dr. Stefansen.

"You-you think you can just—yeah, what would I know about—good God!" Sirius couldn't seem to find the right words. But his face had gone very pale, and he was panting with his hands on his knees, as if he had just run a long distance.

"Sirius," said Harry, "what on Earth is the trouble?"

"I'm fine, Harry," said Sirius, even though he didn't look fine.

Harry just didn't know how to handle Sirius when he got like this. For the most part, he seemed relatively normal, but every so often there would be something he saw or something that happened—like the time he spotted Harry talking to Draco Malfoy, or when he had found that old photo, or the night terrors—that would just set him off and make him act…well, _not_ normal, and Harry didn't know why that happened, or what to do about it.

But then something hit him.

"Sirius?" he said tentatively. "Is it…is it okay if you do go out of the room for a minute?"

"Um, yeah, sure," said Sirius distractedly, getting off the couch and leaving the room. "Just tell me when to come back in."

"Ah, privacy," said Dr. Stefansen. "What was it you couldn't say in front of him?"

"For your information, I can talk to Sirius about anything," Harry said back, glaring at him. "I just wanted him out of the room so I could talk to you about him."

"Hmm," said Dr. Stefansen. "All right. What did you have in mind?"

"The thing is…" Harry sighed. "Sirius's childhood was even worse than mine, okay? His mum hit him when he was little, and they never let him play outside or make any friends. He was homeschooled, so he didn't even get to meet other kids at school. When he was sixteen he ran away from home and moved in with his best friend, my dad, but then my parents got murdered by a serial killer, and Sirius got framed for it, and he had to spend ten years in a prison where they mentally torture the prisoners and starve them. He says most people go mad in there. And, well…sometimes I kind of wonder if all that stuff, y'know…affected him. He has these night terrors, you know, and whenever something reminds him of his childhood or prison he just…doesn't act like himself."

"Those are called triggers," said Dr. Stefansen shrewdly. "Perhaps he has some form of post-traumatic stress disorder. I'm sure a little therapy and medicine would do him well. Take this pamphlet."

"My godfather is the last bit of my dad I've got left," said Harry, skimming through the pamphlet. "I just want him to be happy."

"If you bring him back here, I'll do my best," Dr. Stefansen replied. "Tell him he can come back in the room now, though."

"Sirius?" Harry called. "You can come back in!"

Looking tentative, Sirius opened the door to Dr. Stefansen's office.

"Mr. Potter and I were talking," said Dr. Stefansen coolly. "We were just wondering if you would be so kind as to take a look at that pamphlet."

"You take the quiz inside, Sirius, and if you get a high score, you're supposed to talk to the therapist," Harry added.

Sirius didn't take long to complete the screening. Then, he announced his score, looking shocked.

"I got 17 out of 20, apparently," he said. "Is…is that bad?"

Dr. Stefansen nodded solemnly.

"You'll be all right, Mr. Black," he said. "You just need a formal diagnosis and regular therapy. Maybe some medicine. Prozac or something like that."

Sirius looked like he wanted to ask what Prozac was, but decided against it.

"Okay," he said nervously.

"But don't fight with Dr. Stefansen anymore," said Harry. "He says he'll do his best with you."

"Does this mean the evaluation is done, though?" asked Sirius; all of a sudden, he looked as though he really wanted to leave.

"Yes, it is," Dr. Stefansen replied. "I'll call you about an appointment later on, Mr. Black."

"Very well, then," said Sirius.

It wasn't until the parking lot that Sirius actually said anything to Harry. When they got outside he stopped walking and sat down on the curb, so Harry did, too.

"Sirius, are you okay?" asked Harry.

"Yeah," said Sirius, although his voice was shaking. "It's just…most of the questions in the pamphlet were really familiar. I didn't know _my_ mind was ill."

"Don't worry," said Harry, and he hugged Sirius tightly, feeling hot tears form in his eyes again, trying to stop his lip from trembling. "My dad would be really proud of you and all you've done for me. I know he would. You're my favorite person in the whole world, and I love you."

"Thank you, Harry," said Sirius gently, tousling Harry's hair the way Harry liked. "You're my favorite person too."

It was still something he hated to do, but Harry felt himself start to cry silently. Sirius hugged him and rubbed his back. It was strange, he thought; Sirius was the one who got 17 out of 20, yet _Sirius_ comforted _him_.

 **UPDATE/AUTHOR'S NOTE: I appreciate all reviews, good or bad, but as I like to respond to my wonderful reviewers, please try not to post as "Guest", because then I can't respond to you. If you intend to leave a review, I would appreciate that I have a way to respond. Thank you!**


	27. Quidditch

The next day, Harry was just lounging around the house, watching TV and talking with Hermione on the phone. They were both watching the same TV show. It was a cheesy soap opera, and they were watching it not because they enjoyed watching it, but because they enjoyed criticizing it.

"This is the part that always used to make my Aunt Petunia cry," said Harry, rolling his eyes and switching the phone to his other ear (he had been holding it there so long it was getting the phone all sweaty). "When the couple kisses."

"But they're so terrible for each other," said Hermione. "It's that stupid opposites-attract thing. That never actually works. They'll break up, I bet."

"Yeah, they totally will," said Harry.

Sirius was great, it was true, but Harry loved having a witch his age to talk to. They had a lot in common—they had both grown up in Muggle families, they had been ostracized at school, and they were both nervous and excited for school at the same time. It was great knowing he would have a friend right off the bat as soon as he got to school. Making friends was something he had been worried about, but even one ally would make a huge difference.

At that moment, Sirius walked into the flat (he had been out buying groceries). He didn't look too pleased when he saw Harry on the phone—possibly because Harry had been on the phone when he left an hour and a half ago. Sirius gestured for Harry to put the phone down.

"Hang on for a moment, 'mione," Harry told her, covering up the receiver, then said, rather irritably, "What?!"

"That's not your personal phone, you know," Sirius said. "I need to use it to call Mr. Glacier."

"Sir-i-us!" Harry whined. "Can't you wait until this one episode is over? Hermione and I are watching it together."

"Sorry, Prongslet, but I had a prearranged time to call him," Sirius replied. "Besides, you've been hogging the phone for, like, two hours now."

Harry glared at Sirius and waved his hand angrily; he didn't want Hermione to hear Sirius calling him "Prongslet". For some reason, he thought she wouldn't be impressed by it.

"Sirius needs the phone," Harry said to Hermione. "I'll call you back, okay? Bye."

"Bye," said Hermione. There was a click on the other end of the line.

"Here," Harry grouched, handing the receiver to Sirius. "Can you not call me by my stupid baby nickname in front of my friends, please?"

"Whatever," said Sirius, rolling his eyes. "Listen, when I'm done calling Mr. Glacier, would you like to go down to the park and try out that broomstick I got you for your birthday? I can put a spell on the park to hide us from the Muggles, and maybe I can Keep while you try to score goals."

"Wow, that sounds great!" Harry's mood instantly improved. "But wait…we don't have a Quaffle."

"Barbara lent me an old volleyball," said Sirius. "I can probably magic up some goal hoops."

Sirius picked up the phone, then, and dialed Mr. Glacier. Harry continued watching his TV show, but he could no longer concentrate, as the wonderful thought of flying on his broomstick would not leave his mind. Sirius was talking on the phone about the lawsuit, but Harry wasn't really listening…Would he truly be as good as his father? What if he wasn't? It was really too bad Hermione didn't like to fly. She would come to his games, anyway, though, he was sure…Harry knew that if he were to join the team, he would try out for Seeker. That position sounded the most interesting. He pictured himself soaring above the Quidditch stadium, searching for the little gold ball Sirius had described…and Hermione, her face shining with admiration, leaning out into the stands and waving a little Gryffindor flag…but she leaned too far out and fell…the crowd gasped…Harry dived, fifty feet high, forty, thirty, twenty…putting on speed…and he caught her, saved her from a deathly fall, and everyone cheered…and as he placed her back in the stands he soared up again and caught a struggling Snitch…the cheers were deafening now—

"Harry? Harry!"

Sirius's voice shot across the room and jolted Harry out of his Quidditch fantasies. Harry looked over and saw that his godfather was staring at him, one eyebrow raised.

"What?" Harry asked.

"You look a little dazed," Sirius commented. "Do you still want to try flying?"

"Yeah, I do!" Harry jumped up and ran to his room, where he kept his Nimbus Two Thousand. When he got back to the drawing room, he asked, "Where are you going to get your broom, Sirius?"

"I rented one at Quality Quidditch Supplies in Diagon Alley," Sirius said. "I've got it in my room. Then we can go to the park."

…

They arrived at the nearby playpark not too much later. Sirius had rented a 1989 Silver Arrow, expressing his regret that production of the brand had stopped just a year later. Then he performed some very impressive spellwork, casting a spell around their part of the park so that if any Muggle walked by, they would see nothing but an empty patch of grass, and if they walked anywhere near, they would suddenly remember urgent dentist appointments or dinner reservations and turn away. Then he magicked up three fifty-foot-high goal posts that kind of looked to Harry like giant bubble wands. Harry was holding his Nimbus in his hands.

"So…this is it," he said nervously. "I'm going to fly…any minute now…"

"C'mon, it's easy!" Sirius called, whooshing up into the air and throwing their makeshift volleyball-Quaffle down to Harry. "I'll guard the hoops, and you try to get past me to score goals. Your own mother said it was as if you were born on a broomstick—if you try it, you'll love it!"

"Well, okay," Harry mumbled as he caught the volleyball-Quaffle in his hands. He tucked it underneath one arm and held onto his broom with the other, his nervousness jangling all around inside him, just like it had at Dr. Grant's office…

Until he took off.

What had he been afraid of, exactly? This was wonderful! And it came naturally, just like his mother said! Harry tossed the volleyball-Quaffle to Sirius and soared joyfully around the park. Of all the things Sirius had shown him so far, flying was definitely Harry's favorite part of the Wizarding world!

"Good job!" shouted Sirius, who looked excited; he tossed the volleyball-Quaffle to Harry again. "C'mon, try and score a goal!"

For the next half an hour, Sirius and Harry had fun practicing flying. Harry didn't get every goal but he got a good deal. They switched off, with Harry being the Keeper every so often, but he liked being the Chaser better because it meant he could fly around more. Finally, they decided to take a short break, and headed for the ground. Sirius and Harry got some lunch at a restaurant nearby, and Harry suggested inviting Hermione to the park, so she could watch them play. Sirius agreed, so after lunch, Harry called Hermione using the pay phone outside the restaurant.

"Hello?" said Hermione's voice. Harry smiled.

"Sirius and I are practicing Quidditch," he said. "D'you want to watch?"

"What's Quidditch?" she asked interestedly.

"What's Quidditch!" Harry repeated. "It's only the best sport ever! You play it on broomsticks, high up in the sky—I know you probably wouldn't want to play, but you can watch if you like. It's really fun."

"Sure," said Hermione brightly. "You're right, I probably shouldn't fly myself, but I want to learn all I can about the Wizarding world. Are you at the park right now?"

"Yeah," Harry told her. "Sirius put a protective charm around us so no Muggles will be able to see, but you're not a Muggle, so he says you won't have a problem finding us."

"I'll meet you there, then," Hermione said. "I'll ee you soon!"

"See you," said Harry. "Bye!"

After he hung up, Harry headed back to the park with Sirius. They played a little bit more, until Harry looked down from above and spotted a very familiar head of bushy brown hair…

"Down here, Harry!" Hermione was calling, waving at him.

Harry went into a steep dive, the wind rushing pleasantly in his ears, and in almost no time at all he was hovering an inch from the grass in front of her. She looked very pretty in her violet sundress.

"Hello, Hermione," he said. "How do you like my Nimbus Two Thousand?"

Hermione looked amazed. "It's great!"

"Are you sure you don't want to go for a ride?" Harry offered. "I swear I won't let you fall off."

"Well…okay," Hermione said reluctantly, and climbed onto the back of the broom.

She seemed to regret it pretty fast—as Harry ascended into the air, she let out a shrill, piercing scream and clung onto his waist with a death-grip. She looked down and gulped; the park was very far down below.

"Are you all right?" Harry called.

"No!" said Hermione.

Harry nodded quickly, and she screamed again as they headed towards the ground. Hermione seemed like she couldn't get off fast enough.

"Sorry," said Harry, feeling embarrassed. Why had he suggested this?

"It's okay." Hermione looked a little better now that both feet were on the ground again. "I'm the one who agreed to take the broom ride, after all. What do you say I just watch from now on?"

Harry smiled as Sirius tossed him the volleyball-Quaffle again.

"I'd say every goal I score today will be for you," he told her, and took off into the air once again.


	28. Ready, Set, Sue

August 25, 1991 was the day before the big court date, _Potter vs_. _Dursley_ ,the lawsuit in which Uncle Vernon would hopefully be left broke and humiliated. It was also the day Sirius picked up his first bottle of the pills he was supposed to be taking. He had been given a full psychiatric evaluation just like Harry's, and Dr. Stefansen had diagnosed him with PTSD and recommended therapy and some prescription medication.

Sirius seemed a little suspicious that evening as he dumped one of the little green pills into his hand. The shrink had told him to take two a day—one in the morning and one at night.

"I don't know about this," he said. "You're saying these little pills will make me feel happier?"

"Yeah," said Harry.

"Isn't that what alcohol is for?" said Sirius jokingly, but Harry frowned, so he added, "How am I supposed to swallow this anyway? It's really chalky."

"You haven't ever taken an aspirin or Tylenol or anything?" Harry asked. "You know, for headaches and colds?"

"We have potions for stuff like that!"

"Okay, well, you just take them with water," Harry explained, as patiently as he could. "Put the pill in your mouth, and then just swallow it as you swallow the water."

"Could I have a glass, then, please?" Sirius asked, not without some trepidation.

Harry got a glass of water and brought it to Sirius, who put one of the pills on his tongue, then took a big gulp of the water. Unfortunately, the water went down, but the pill didn't. It stuck on Sirius's tongue, so he kept drinking more water to make it go down, but that just made it more stuck, and he started panicking and coughing and choking on the water.

"Dislodge it with your teeth!" Harry shouted. "Then drink some water and it will go down! I promise!"

Sirius finally managed to get the pill unstuck and with a shudder and one more gigantic gulp of water, it finally went down. Harry ran to refill the glass and let Sirius drink the whole thing, then brought him some chocolate, which would help get the taste out of his mouth.

"Thanks," said a rattled Sirius, taking a bite of the chocolate.

"You're welcome," said Harry. "That happens to everyone who takes prescription medicine at some point or another. It won't be like that every time."

"I don't feel any happier, though," Sirius told him, looking around with his hands on his hips.

"Antidepressants don't work right away," Harry explained. "They have to go into your bloodstream, and then your medicated blood goes to your brain and fixes the problem…or something like that."

"If they stop the nightmares, I'll never say another word against them," Sirius said, sitting down at the kitchen table. "You know, I talked to Dr. Stefansen about all this. He said I have to face my trauma, instead of putting it out of my head. He says I have to expose myself to stuff that reminds me of it. When I was there for the first time, he made me write out my whole life story on a piece of paper."

"What was that like?" asked Harry, his tone hushed, although he didn't know why.

"It was like when they did the appeal, and we had to go into the Pensieve to see my memories," Sirius began, looking down. "Really horrible. You ever used a Pensieve, Harry?"

"No."

"Well, you remove your thoughts from your head and put them into a magical device, from which you can view your thoughts," Sirius explained. "You can also go into the Pensieve, and view the memories as if you were there."

"Is that what the Ministry made you do?" said Harry, feeling sorry for Sirius.

"Yeah, they did," Sirius replied sadly. "They made me replay the memory where Peter, James and Lily did the Fidelius Charm. I was there, and I watched them do it, holding you in my lap. It was all I could do to not break down in front of the Ministry. But Dr. Stefansen says I have to relive my memories, because otherwise they'll conquer me. He said that the longer the memories of my trauma stay locked inside my subconscious, the worse I'll get, and if you hadn't staged this intervention, I might have completely lost my sanity."

"Did you, y'know…cry?" Harry asked, half-hoping the answer would be yes, since he thought he would feel a little better if Sirius had cried, because then he wouldn't be the only one who had done so.

"Well…when we were doing the writing thing, I was almost to the part where I went to Godric's Hollow on the day after the attack," said Sirius. "I mean, I had to take out the part about the Fidelius Charm, of course, but I did write that we trusted a friend with your parents' location, and that he gave them away. But then I found I couldn't write the rest of it down. I just _couldn't_ , because I could see it in my head—even though in hindsight, I guess that was the point…Anyway, I told him I couldn't write anymore, and he told me I had to keep going, that me blocking the memories was exactly the problem, and…well, you could say things got a little ugly after that."

"Sirius, you didn't yell at him, did you?" said Harry exasperatedly.

"I'll admit I lost my temper a bit," said Sirius, looking embarrassed, then paused. "Look, I didn't attack him or anything. I just pounded my fists on the table and repeated that I couldn't do it, then he told me to use my inside voice, and then I asked him how HE would feel if his best friend was murdered and some douchenozzle made him relive it—"

"You called Dr. Stefansen a _douchenozzle?!"_

"I might have," said Sirius. "But you see, at the time, I kind of thought he was being one."

"What happened then?" Harry asked in disbelief.

"The shrink kept strangely calm," said Sirius. "I mean, he offered me a drink of water, and then I shouted that I didn't want a drink of water, I wanted him to stop making me face my trauma—I mean, why would I _want_ to face it? And then he said if I faced it enough I would become less sensitive over time, and then—I was really angry at this point—I told him I would NEVER become less sensitive about what happened, that I would NEVER forget, that it would eat away at me for the rest of my life, and that I hated myself for surviving when they didn't—and then it was like all my bad memories hit me at once, so I just sort of collapsed onto the couch and I couldn't say anything at all…But it was really weird. He just sat there in his chair and let me rage at him. I was never told to shut up or anything."

"Maybe you aren't the first person to get angry with him during an assignment like that," Harry said thoughtfully. "But still…you know he's just trying to help, right?"

"Yeah," said Sirius. "I know. I apologized to him before I left."

Harry knew Sirius well by now, and he could imagine how a psychotherapy session focusing on his childhood and the Potters' death would go—in short, not well. He was also wondering why Dr. Stefansen hadn't prescribed a higher dose of the meds after that incident, but he didn't say so. Instead he smiled at Sirius and sat down across from him.

"You'll get better, Sirius," he said in what he hoped was a reassuring voice. "I think you were really brave."

…

The next day, though, was Harry's turn to be brave. It was finally time to meet the Dursleys in court again. Harry realized that he didn't _really_ need the money he would hopefully get out of the settlement, but the point was that the Dursleys did need that money. Dudley wouldn't be so spoiled after Uncle Vernon became bankrupt. Maybe, Harry thought gleefully, they would have to move, and Dudley would have to sleep in a room that was no bigger than Harry's old cupboard. Or even smaller! Maybe Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia would tell him that they couldn't get him any presents for Christmas or his birthday, because they could barely pay for food!

"What are you smiling about?" said Sirius as they walked to the motorcycle.

"Just picturing the lawsuit," Harry told him.

They got to the courthouse after the Dursleys, this time. Harry was both amazed and pleased to see how frightened they looked. Mr. Glacier was there, too, as well as Dr. Grant and Dr. Stefansen. Harry noticed how Sirius avoided Dr. Stefansen's eyes.

"Harry!" Dr. Grant smiled and bent down to give Harry a hug. "How are you doing, honey?"

"I'm fine," Harry told her. "I'm taking that growth stuff you prescribed, and I think I'm getting taller. Just a little, though."

"Wonderful," she replied. "I've got all your test results here with me. Dr. Stefansen has too, I'm sure."

"Hello, Mr. Potter," said Dr. Stefansen, reaching out to shake hands. "Good to see you."

"Good to see you too," Harry said, and then took him aside. "Look…Sirius told me about what happened at your last appointment."

"Oh, yes," said Dr. Stefansen knowingly.

"Well, he's really sorry," said Harry. "It's just hard for him to talk about it. Or write about it."

"Over time, I hope it will become less hard," said Dr. Stefansen. "Avoiding triggers may help in the short-term, Mr. Potter. But in the long-term, this can prevent recovery. Only when your godfather comes to terms with these events can he really move on."

"Move on?" asked Harry. "Do you mean…forget all that stuff?"

"No," Dr. Stefansen said mysteriously. "Just become at peace with it."

Harry thought this would take a lot of work, but he didn't say anything more, because that was when Mr. Glacier told everyone it was time to come into the courthouse. As they walked in, Harry got a look at the Dursleys' lawyer. He was bald as can be, with a hawkish expression, and he was wearing a red suit the color of blood.

"Does the Plaintiff have an opening statement?" asked Judge Corriveau, a man in a wig and black robes.

"We do, your Honor," said Mr. Glacier, and he stood up, pacing the courtroom with one hand behind his back like on a courtroom drama. "My name is Bernard Glacier, Esquire. I have worked in family law for forty-nine years. And yet in all those years of work, I have to say that my client's case is one of the foulest, one of the vilest, one of the obscenest cases with which I have ever been presented."

"Could you explain further?" said the judge.

"The Plaintiff calls the first witness to the stand," said Mr. Glacier, pointing to the witness soapbox. "I give you renowned pediatrician Dr. Elizabeth Grant."

Dr. Grant was wearing a black pantsuit with matching black high heels. Her dyed-blonde hair was straightened, but curled up at the ends.

"Not long ago, I had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Harry James Potter," Dr. Grant said. It sounded as if she was picking her words slowly and deliberately. "I could see right away that his physical well-being had suffered greatly at the ends of his previous legal guardians. Harry is very far behind on the growth curve for boys his age, both in terms of height and weight. He had not had his booster shots, and he needed some dental work. More extensive tests were also administered. Blood testing revealed that he had serious vitamin deficiencies, and his eyeglass prescription was also highly out-of-date. This is all proof of severe malnourishment, as well as failure to provide proper medical care to the Plaintiff."

"Indeed," said Judge Corriveau, looking grim. "I believe the court ordered a psychiatric evaluation as well?"

"Dr. Maurice Stefansen requests permission to approach the stand, your Honor," said Dr. Stefansen, standing up. He was holding some papers in his hands. When Judge Corriveau nodded for him to approach the soapbox, he began talking. "I recently gave Mr. Potter a full psychiatric evaluation at my office. Although he is a kind person, it was clear to me that his upbringing, if it can be called that, has affected him in many negative ways. For instance, they have deprived Mr. Potter of the Critical Love Stage."

"And what is that?" asked the judge.

"Well, science has proven that children have a certain 'window' in which they must learn things like language, lest they never be able to learn," Dr. Stefansen replied. "Critical Love Theory states that there is a similar period for a child to receive love and attention, and if the child in question does not receive proper care during the Critical Love Stage, he or she will be stunted in terms of emotional development, or have difficulty in those areas. Typical reactions can be mood swings, a tendency to be overly self-conscious, and lack of trust for oneself and others. This was clear to me when I observed that Mr. Potter was adamantly against expressing his feelings. I could see right away that since Mr. Potter has been deprived of love during a period of life in which it was imperative that he have some, he has developed a sort of complex in which he believes he does not deserve love, or that love for him has to be earned. He also has a great deal of self-confidence and trust issues. He stated openly that there were many times, before he met his godfather, in which he felt lonely and helpless."

Harry didn't like how the entire courtroom was now staring at him. He wished Dr. Stefansen hadn't revealed all that, but then, the shrink kind of had to, because otherwise they might not win the case. When he glanced at the Dursleys and their lawyer, he saw that they looked petrified.

"Their goose is cooked," Sirius murmured, noticing who Harry was looking at.

"Any more witnesses?" asked the judge.

"Permission to approach the stand, your Honor," Sirius said, standing up and walking to the soapbox. As soon as he was there, he immediately began to talk. "I have known Harry Potter since the day he was born. Unfortunately, I was not able to keep him after his parents' death, due to being falsely imprisoned for their murder. Luckily, I have been cleared of all charges.

"That said, when I was released late last June, I ran into Harry when he was visiting the zoo with the Dursleys and a family friend of theirs. He looked much worse that day than he does now. His clothes were hand-me-downs from his cousin, his glasses were old and taped together, and he informed me that not only did the Dursleys lie to him about the circumstances of his parents' death—they claimed the Potters had been killed in a car accident—but they also kept him in a cupboard, locked him in there as a punishment and often withheld food. All he had eaten that day was some leftover ice cream and potato chips. Although it seems that the Dursleys did not regularly physically abuse Harry, he has informed me that he has been beaten on rare occasions, or struck with objects. As for his emotional suffering, I wouldn't disagree with a word Dr. Stefansen just said about him."

"There you have it," Mr. Glacier added, as Sirius stepped down from the stand and returned to his seat. "Mr. Potter suffered from neglect, plus emotional and physical abuse."

"Does—does the defense have an opening statement?" Judge Corriveau looked very shaken up now.

"Yes," said the lawyer in the blood-red suit, standing up. "My name is Jason Fleer, Esquire. Your Honor, Harry Potter was left on the Dursleys' doorstep unannounced ten years ago, with nothing but a letter to explain things. They were not consulted or given time to prepare. However, Mr. Potter was placed with them by default, as Petunia Dursley was his only remaining living relative, and under the circumstances, they did the best they possibly could in terms of food, clothing, and shelter—"

"Objection!" Sirius shouted. "If that was true, he'd be a pampered prince like their massive son!"

"How DARE you insult my Dudders!" Uncle Vernon bellowed, standing up, but Sirius just made a rude hand gesture and stood up too.

"Living in a cupboard is NOT proper shelter, not when you had a whole spare bedroom!" Sirius continued, as Uncle Vernon sat down in shock. "Overlarge, ragged hand-me-downs are NOT proper clothing, not when Dudley always gets everything new! And how on Earth can you claim to have provided proper food when he's so obviously malnourished? What is wrong with you? How could you possibly treat another human being this way— _your own flesh and blood!"_

Judge Corriveau frowned. "Mr. Black, please—"

"HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO SUCH AN INNOCENT CHILD?!" Sirius roared. "YOU HAVE MONEY—YOU HAVE YOUR WHALE OF A SON—AND YOU HAVE YOUR NEPHEW TOO!"

"It's okay, Sirius," said Harry. "You can sit down now."

"It doesn't go away." Sirius's voice was slightly calmer now, although cold as ice, but then he said something that surprised everyone. "I can say this firsthand, as a victim of child abuse myself. It stays with you, wherever you go. After years and years, it still hurts. I'm going to give Harry what I never got—a chance at a normal childhood. You horrible Dursleys were going to treat him horribly for the rest of his life if I hadn't turned up. This is both my duty and my pleasure as godfather, to give Harry a home he deserves."

Sirius, white-faced, sat down. Harry, touched, slowly began to clap. Dr. Stefansen did too, then Dr. Grant, and then Judge Corriveau, and soon all were clapping except the Dursleys and their lawyer.

"Thank you," Harry whispered, giving Sirius a hug. Sirius hugged him back. And then the courtroom doors burst open.

Everyone's heads swiveled around to look. There, standing in the doorway, were two police officers, both of them looking downright murderous.

"You called the _police_ on us, boy?!" Uncle Vernon bellowed across the room.

"No," said a triumphant, familiar voice from the doorway. "I did."

The two police officers parted, and there, staring down the Dursleys, two cats standing at her side like soldiers at attention, was…

"Mrs. Figg?!" Harry gasped.

"That's right," said Mrs. Figg in a strong voice, stepping into the courtroom. "I'm doing what I should have done years ago. Harry, what your aunt and uncle need is a nice long stay in the stony lonesome."

"Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, you are under arrest for child abuse and endangerment," the bigger police officer said, grabbing hold of Uncle Vernon and cuffing him. The other did the same to Aunt Petunia.

"Well, too bad, because the boy won't be able to testify at the trial!" Uncle Vernon shouted. "He's going off to boarding school in a few days!"

"Oh, is that so?" said the other police officer, the one holding Aunt Petunia. "Well, then, we can have the trial when he gets back in June. Until then, I think jail will be just fine."

"But-but-but…" Uncle Vernon was spluttering.

"I don't talk to child abusers," the policeman said in a dark voice, yanking him along roughly.

"And before you go," said the judge, slamming down his gavel, "the jury has reached a unanimous decision. Mr. Harry James Potter will be awarded with a settlement of one million pounds."

Everyone but the Dursleys cheered; Dr. Grant, Mr. Glacier, Mrs. Figg, Dr. Stefansen, Harry and Sirius all hugged each other. Mrs. Figg was crying happy tears, and Harry made sure to hug her especially tight. Even Mrs. Figg's cats mewled gleefully and pawed at their feet.

"Hope you like prison!" Sirius jeered as the police took Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia away. "It stinks!"

"Just like you lot!" Harry added, and they laughed.

 **TO BE CONTINUED!**


	29. Butterbeer Fizzies

That night, Harry and Sirius had a big celebratory dinner. They invited Mr. Glacier, Dr. Stefansen, Dr. Grant, Mrs. Figg, Remus, Barbara and Hermione. Dinner was at a Mexican restaurant called Uncle Mario's. Sirius, Mr. Glacier, Remus and Barbara all enjoyed a round of tequila, although nobody got drunk this time, thankfully. Mrs. Figg enjoyed milk (like her cats); Dr. Grant ordered water; Dr. Stefansen, Harry and Hermione all got apple juice. Sirius got the Giant Mario's Burrito, Barbara got enchiladas, and the rest got pork tacos—all except Dr. Grant, who got fish tacos, as she was a pescatarian.

After dinner was over, Harry hugged Dr. Grant, Mrs. Figg, Remus and Hermione goodbye. He didn't really feel comfortable hugging the others—Dr. Stefansen still kind of weirded him out, Mr. Glacier didn't really seem like the hugging type, and Harry had experience with Barbara's hugs.

Hermione was a very good hugger. Harry didn't know why, but he felt a strange sort of jumping in his stomach when he hugged her—sort of the same feeling he got in Dr. Grant's office before the shots. He didn't understand why he would experience this, seeing as Hermione wasn't going to ambush him with any needles. Even more confusing, this time the feeling was actually kind of…good. And he certainly didn't get this feeling when he hugged anyone else. Since it didn't make any sense, he just put it out of his head as soon as they were done hugging.

Harry was so wound up that night that he could hardly sleep, so finally Sirius had to give him a Sleeping Drought. The next morning was no different. Harry sprang out of bed, full of energy, and broke into Sirius's room. Sirius was still sleeping. Harry jumped on his legs.

"Wake up, Sirius!" he shouted.

"Get off," Sirius mumbled.

"Wake up or I'll pour water on your head!" Harry said jokingly. Sirius sat up in bed and ambushed Harry with tickling. Harry was laughing and trying to push him away.

"Do you surrender?" Sirius shouted.

"I surrender! I surrender!"

"I can't HEAR you!"

"I surrender!" Harry gasped again through his laughter, and only then did Sirius stop tickling him.

"Go get dressed," Sirius said, grinning. "I'm going to hit the showers. Then what do you say we head to Gringotts and put that money in your vault?"

"Yes!" Harry said, and ran out of Sirius's bedroom at top speed.

…

Harry and Sirius reached Diagon Alley by ten in the morning. Harry's heart was still a weightless cloud. Of course, it was because of the lawsuit and the Muggles getting their comeuppance. But he couldn't help but wonder if a part of him was so exuberant because he could still feel his best friend Hermione's hug.

"I don't know what's the matter with you, Prongslet," said Sirius, although he was smiling. "I haven't seen you this happy…well, since I can't remember when."

"Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon are penniless and in jail," Harry said gleefully, "and Dudley is going to have to go to an orphanage, probably. It's not like anyone would adopt him."

"True," said Sirius.

Since Harry was practically running and Sirius had to walk fast to keep up with him, they reached Gringotts in no time at all. They walked up to the counter and wasted no time in consulting a free goblin.

"Can I help you?" the goblin asked, sounding bored.

"Yes, we're here to make a deposit in Vault 687," Sirius told him. "It's a Muggle check for one million pounds."

"One million pounds…" The goblin frowned. "So that's about 330 grand."

Sirius whistled. Looking bored, the goblin took the check and told them that he would convert it into gold and place the gold in Vault 687.

"Thanks!" Harry told him.

On their way back to the Leaky Cauldron, where Sirius had parked his bike, Sirius stopped abruptly. Harry turned to see what he was looking at. It was a man who looked to be about Sirius's age, maybe younger; his hair was dirty-blonde, shoulder-length and pleated. He was wearing bright green wizard's robes. Next to him was a girl who could only have been his daughter. She had the same hair, only longer (halfway down her back), and she was blowing bubbles out of a bubble wand and watching everyone in Diagon Alley interestedly. Her dress was designed with life-size sunflowers; her rain boots (which she wore despite the fact that there wasn't a cloud in the sky) didn't match.

"Xeno!" Sirius yelled in surprise. "What're you doing here?"

"Sirius!" the man called Xeno said back. "Good to see you here! I'm glad people have finally stopped believing that nonsense about you being a criminal! We knew he was innocent all along, didn't we, Luna?"

Luna smiled and nodded, then blew another bubble.

"Why, Luna," said Sirius. "I haven't seen you since you were a newborn, and now—you should be ten by now, shouldn't you?"

"Ten and a half!" Luna corrected him, grinning. She still had some baby teeth missing. Then, her wide, pale eyes turned to Harry, and he knew what she was going to say before she said it: " _You're_ Harry Potter."

"I know I am," said Harry.

Sirius grinned.

"Aren't you going to introduce us?" Xeno asked, smiling at Harry.

"Of course," said Sirius. "Harry, this is Xenophilius Lovegood and his daughter, Luna."

"Hi," said Harry, waving. Luna waved back.

"So…where's Pandora?" Sirius asked, looking around with his hands in his pockets. "Wouldn't she enjoy a day like this?"

"She would have," said Xeno matter-of-factly. "But I'm afraid she passed away a few years ago."

"Oh, Merlin…" Sirius looked mortified. "That's terrible. I'm so sorry."

"Don't worry about it," said Xeno calmly. "Sometimes I do wonder if I can raise a girl right all on my own, without her mother…but I think we're doing well so far."

"Look, let me buy you and Luna a drink in the Leaky Cauldron, okay?" said Sirius. Then he bent down and asked kindly, "Do you like butterbeer, Luna?"

"Yeah!" she said excitedly.

"Well, my godson Harry does too," Sirius told her. "You two could chat over one while we all go to the Leaky Cauldron. How does that sound?"

"Good!" Luna grabbed Harry's hand, to his surprise, and pulled him off towards the Leaky Cauldron. Harry heard Sirius's bark of laughter, and he and Xeno soon followed.

Xeno and Sirius both got regular beer, and Luna and Harry both got butterbeer. Luna introduced Harry to something she called "Butterbeer Fizzies", which she claimed her mother had invented. They were little magical tablets, and when you put them in your butterbeer, the liquid changed color to the same color as the tablet. It also made the butterbeer very bubbly, like soda pop, hence the name "Butterbeer Fizzies". Butterbeer was not normally carbonated, but with the Butterbeer Fizzies it sure was. Luna and Harry finished theirs, let out obnoxiously loud burps, and felt the carbonation bubbling in their noses.

"What do you say, Harry?" said Sirius.

"Must be a barge coming through!" Harry said back.

Luna laughed, then added in a singsong voice, "Past the lips and over the gums, look out tummy, here it comes!"

"I try to limit her to one when she's using those things," Xeno told Sirius.

"Good call." Sirius nodded.

Sirius and Harry said goodbye to Xeno and Luna after finishing their drinks. Xeno and Luna went out the back entrance, back into Diagon Alley, while Harry and Sirius left out the front door, into Muggle London.

"I was meaning to ask," said Harry. "How are those antidepressants treating you?"

"Hmm…well, I'm not sure if they're actually making me happier, but they do have some rather unseemly side effects," Sirius replied.

"Like what?" Harry asked.

"I'd rather not say," Sirius said, a little uncomfortably.

"Oh, come on."

"Fine." Sirius sighed and stuck his hands in his pockets. "I'm not as… _regular_ as I used to be, if you catch my drift."

"So I guess that means we won't be eating at Uncle Mario's again any time soon," said Harry, grinning. He normally wouldn't have laughed at Sirius's pain, but he was just in such a good mood today that everything seemed funny. Even Sirius smiled.

"No, definitely no Mexican food," he agreed. "Well, except maybe chips and guacamole for dinner tonight…I hear avocadoes have lots of fiber."

…

Chips and guacamole made an excellent dinner. Harry and Sirius watched TV while they ate it. During the ad break, Harry asked Sirius something he had been thinking about.

"I've got a way for you to tell if you really love Barbara," he said.

"Oh?" Sirius raised his eyebrows.

"Well, let's say you were stranded out in the middle of a desert with only Barbara, Professor Dumbledore and a horse," Harry began.

"Wait, why Dumbledore?" Sirius interrupted.

"Isn't he supposed to be the greatest wizard of his age?"

"I suppose," said Sirius, sounding disgruntled. "Not that knowingly sending babies off to abusive homes is very 'great'…at least not in my opinion."

"Anyway," said Harry. "You're stuck out in the desert with Barbara, the greatest wizard of the age, and a horse to take you home. But the problem is, the horse can only carry two people."

"We don't even _need_ the horse," said Sirius. "I can just use Side-Along Apparition with Barbara, and Dumbledore can Disapparate on his own. I suppose I'd have to use a Memory Charm on Barbara afterwards, unless we were married and she knew about my powers, but again, we would have no need for the horse."

"Say it was like Hogwarts, then!" Harry said exasperatedly. "You know, the desert has an Anti-Apparation Jinx on it."

"All right, then…" Sirius frowned. "I guess maybe Barbara and Dumbledore could ride while I walked. I wouldn't make Barbara walk, of course, and Dumbledore's too old, but I can walk long distances as Padfoot without my paws getting tired. I could walk next to the horse while it takes Barbara and Dumbledore home."

"Sirius!" Harry groaned. "The point of this question is not to find a loophole! The point is to figure out who you would leave behind!"

"Are you sure?" Sirius asked. "Maybe the real answer is that instead of wasting time trying to figure out who to leave behind, I should be using my brains to think outside the box and find a way for all of us to come home safely."

Harry paused and thought about that for a moment.

"Well…you may be right," he said slowly. "And that way, you do get to save them all."

"Sounds better, doesn't it?" Sirius asked, smiling slightly, and they finished eating their dinner.


	30. Harry's Guest

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is just a refresher/reminder, in case you forgot or missed the note in the first chapter. ***** _ **PLEASE DO NOT POST SPOILERS IN THE REVIEWS**_ **.*** I appreciate detailed reviews, but it isn't fair to the readers who haven't read the story yet to spoil it for them. I appreciate PM's, too!**

It was August 31, 1991—tomorrow, Harry would be boarding the Hogwarts Express and going to Hogwarts for the very first time. He was both very excited and very nervous, so he could barely sit still for the whole day.

Currently, he could be found talking on the phone with Hermione. Once again, he had brought the phone into his room and plugged it into the wall, then dialed her phone number, which he now knew by heart. He was too full of nervous energy to stay in one spot, so he paced around and around his room as he talked. It seemed he had lost track of time, though, because soon enough his bedroom door flew open and there was Sirius, who gestured for Harry to put the phone down. Harry shook his head and glared.

"Put it down, NOW!" Sirius mouthed.

"Just a moment, Hermione, Sirius wants something," said Harry, then, covering up the receiver, he demanded, "What?"

"Several things," said Sirius, crossing his arms. "Will you hang up that phone?"

"FINE," Harry groaned, then told Hermione, "Listen, I've got to go…see you on the Hogwarts Express tomorrow?"

"For sure," Hermione agreed. "Goodbye, Harry."

Harry's stomach jumped inexplicably when she said his name, and in such a nice tone. Then he was brought back to reality by Sirius glaring at him.

"What?" Harry said again, feeling annoyed beyond belief.

"You talk on that thing for hours and hours every single day, that's what," Sirius grouched. "The phone bill was astronomically high this month."

"Oh, don't be so cheap!" Harry snapped. "We have plenty of money, you know that!"

"That doesn't mean you need to blow it all on stuff you don't need," Sirius said back. "I don't think it's a good idea for you to bring this thing into your room anymore."

"HEY!" said Harry indignantly as Sirius used his wand to Summon the phone. It unplugged itself from the wall and flew into Sirius's hands. "That is SO unfair!"

"Not unless one of us has started crapping money, it isn't," said Sirius, shoving the phone into one of his enchanted pockets. "And you can't count on me, because no thanks to that medicine, I'm barely crapping anything at all."

"Is that why you're so grumpy?"

"No," said Sirius, glaring. "And for another thing—why did you post a sign saying 'Enter and Die' on your room door, dare I ask?"

"So nobody comes in," said Harry, like this was obvious. "But apparently you can't read."

"Harry James, you are treading on VERY thin ice here!" Sirius barked.

"I cannot _believe_ you just middle-named me!"

"Listen, Harry…" Sirius sighed; Harry heard the bedsprings squeak slightly as he sat down on the bed. "You're not really acting like yourself, you know. If you've got any problems, I'd be happy to help. _Really_."

"I'm fine," Harry said firmly. "I haven't got any problems."

This wasn't entirely true; his main problem was that he had all these new feelings all of a sudden that he couldn't explain, but he didn't want them to stop, because they weren't _bad_ feelings, they were just…weird. And even more confusing, only one girl made them happen. But there was no way Harry was going to tell this to anyone, not even Sirius. It would just sound too stupid…and Sirius probably wouldn't be able to help anyway. Obviously, Harry was the only person on Earth to experience such feelings, ever.

"Well…okay," said Sirius, looking like he didn't quite believe Harry. "But I'm your godfather, okay? Just keep in mind, I'm here if ever you need me."

"Thanks," Harry said quietly. "You know I'll always need you, Sirius."

"That means a lot to me." Sirius smiled slightly. "You'd better get your trunk packed. You don't want to be throwing everything together at the last moment."

Sirius squeezed Harry's shoulder, stood up, and left the room.

…

Several hours later, when Harry was just about done packing, Sirius entered the bedroom again. He sat down on the bed and watched Harry for a moment, then handed Harry one twenty-pound note.

"What's this for?" Harry asked.

"It's so you can order some pizza for yourself or something," Sirius said, a little uncomfortably. "Barbara invited me to spend the evening with her, since we haven't had a lot of time to spend together recently. You don't mind, do you?"

"Well…" Harry wasn't sure if he minded or not. Sirius didn't say it, but Harry felt that he was the reason why his godfather hadn't had any alone time with his girlfriend. But still, this was the last night before he went to Hogwarts. Shouldn't he be spending it with Sirius, who he wouldn't see again until Christmas vacation?

"I understand," said Sirius, looking a little crestfallen. "I can make some dinner for us here, if you'd like that better."

"No, it's okay," said Harry reluctantly. "You deserve to have a night with her."

"Really?" Sirius brightened. "You mean it?"

"Yeah." Harry smiled a little when he saw that Sirius looked happy too.

"All right then." Sirius bent down and gave Harry a hug. "Here's Barbara's phone number, in case you need to contact me. Just order a pizza, watch TV and be good, all right?"

"I will," Harry promised.

"I'll be back around ten," Sirius told Harry, and he left.

Harry, meanwhile, ordered the pizza; there was enough left over for some cinnamon sticks and one can of pop. The pizza place said they would send someone to the flat within thirty minutes to an hour, so Harry settled down in front of the TV and tried to find something to watch.

But he couldn't concentrate; he became bored very quickly. There was nothing on TV, and his trunk was already packed. Sirius was spending the evening snogging Barbara…what would he do?

Then it hit him.

Harry ran to the phone and dialed Hermione's number again.

"Hello?" she said, picking up.

"This is Harry," he said. "How would you like to spend the evening with your best mate? Sirius is out with Barbara. He just told me to eat pizza, watch TV and be good."

"Could we eat pizza, watch TV and be good together?" Hermione asked. Harry could tell she was grinning.

"Of course," Harry told her. "You just have to leave by about nine-thirty."

Hermione's mother allowed her to come over, although Hermione didn't mention that Sirius wouldn't be there. She was there within ten minutes. Harry buzzed her into the building.

"Good evening," said Hermione, walking into the flat. To Harry's surprise, she was already dressed in the girls' school uniform—she had a white button-down like Harry's, but instead of pants, she had a pleated skirt, white stockings and Oxford shoes.

"You're wearing your school uniform," Harry pointed out.

"I know," she said, smiling. "I was so excited for school tomorrow, I wore it all day long."

"Hang on a minute," said Harry. Hermione waited out in the drawing room while Harry tore into his room, changed into his slacks and button-down shirt, and emerged from his bedroom again.

"Now we're both in uniform!" Hermione smiled. "When we get Sorted into Houses, we buy our ties and school sweaters at the bookstore. I've heard they have tons of House Pride stuff in the bookstore…By the way, I like your Gryffindor socks."

"Thanks." Harry beamed. "Sirius bought them for me in Diagon Alley."

Harry and Hermione sat down on the couch and waited for the pizza. Harry asked Hermione if there was anything he could get her.

"I'll just wait for the pizza, like you," she said. "Is there anything good on TV?"

"No, but there will probably be some so-bad-they're-good soap operas if we look," Harry told her. She grinned, and they looked through the channels until Harry found a show he knew—it was one Aunt Petunia loved to watch. It was so smarmy it would make the average person want to throw up in their own mouth, but that was the perfect kind of program Harry and Hermione loved to bash.

"I can't believe he proposed to her with a ring in a cake," Hermione commented, rolling her eyes. "She could have choked to death on that."

"How lame," Harry agreed.

Just as they were scorning the cheesy way everyone else in the restaurant clapped when the female lead tearfully accepted the ring, the doorbell rang. The pizza guy was here. After paying him, Harry realized he had a problem.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked.

"It's just…when I ordered this, I didn't know you were coming over," Harry explained. "I only ordered one soda."

"I don't like soda, anyway," said Hermione. "My parents are dentists, remember? I'll just get myself some water from the kitchen."

Hermione got her glass of water, and sat down next to Harry on the couch. Her hand grazed his by accident when he grabbed his soda at the same time she put her water glass down; that now-familiar jumping feeling in his stomach returned. Not only that, but his heart was now beating very fast, and he felt significantly light-headed. He wondered if he was getting sick again.

Aunt Petunia's favorite smarmy soap opera was soon over—and a romantic comedy, _North to Alaska_ , was scheduled to come on immediately afterwards.

"Do you want to watch it?" Harry asked tentatively.

"If there's nothing else on." Hermione shrugged. "I don't really mind."

So they watched _North to Alaska_ , which wasn't actually half-bad. When she reached for her drink, he held out his hand to stop her.

"Watch what I've learned to do," he said. _"Wingardium Leviosa!"_

Hermione beamed as Harry used his wand to guide the water glass into her hand. Harry took the spell off the cup as she caught it.

"I'm impressed," said Hermione, and Harry's stomach just about did a backflip. It felt great.

Hermione and Harry both got a little sleepy as the night went on. Hermione leaned her head on Harry's shoulder, which made him feel like every one of his internal organs was going to explode. His hand found hers, sending what felt like an electrical current up his arm. She might have been watching the movie, but he wasn't paying any attention to it at all…

"Harry! HARRY!"

The movie was over. Harry was awakened by someone shaking him; he panicked when he saw that it was Sirius, and he looked absolutely livid.

"Oh my God—I can explain!" Harry said quickly, but it was no use.

"I'm sure you can," Sirius said coldly, then he turned to Hermione. "I think it's about time for you to go home, Hermione."

She didn't need telling twice. One minute later she was downstairs and hailing a cab.

"Honestly, Sirius, I didn't mean to—" Harry began, but Sirius cut him off.

"What do you mean, you didn't mean to?!" he shouted. "I set certain rules in my flat, and I expect them to be obeyed! I didn't say you could invite a girl over!"

"You didn't say I couldn't!" Harry said back.

"Harry James, don't you talk back to me!" Sirius snapped. "First the phone, now this—what has gotten _into_ you?!"

"NOTHING!" Harry yelled. "You're one to talk—spending the whole evening snogging your girlfriend!"

"I thought you were okay with that!"

"I WAS," Harry hollered, "until YOU got angry with me for doing what YOU said!"

"When did I say you could invite her over?" Sirius demanded.

"You said to eat pizza, watch TV and be good," said Harry, "and that's what we DID! Unlike you—I bet you two didn't let go of each other for even one split second!"

"Harry…" Sirius sank back down onto the couch, suddenly looking more exhausted than Harry had ever seen him. "You're right. I'm sorry. I should've spent the evening with you, not Barbara. I'm trying to make up for ten years' worth of lost time with you here, and…I guess my girlfriend's flat isn't really the best place to do it."

"But you're right too," Harry said glumly, sitting down next to him. "I could've called you."

"I'd have appreciated that."

"But you know…" Harry looked up into Sirius's eyes. "We really _did_ just eat pizza, watch TV and be good. We watched _North to Alaska_."

Harry didn't mention how when they were eating pizza, he had used his powers to levitate her drink to her. He didn't mention how amazing it had felt when she leaned her head on his shoulder and when their hands touched. He didn't mention how they had just fallen asleep in front of the TV together…He didn't mention how he would have loved it if that night could last forever.

There was a very…long…silence. Harry didn't realize his godfather had been watching him until he finally spoke.

"All right," said Sirius, and Harry was both relieved and shocked to find that his tone was much gentler. "I understand. And about the phone bill—I'm sorry for yelling at you about that. It isn't a big deal."

"It's just…I like hearing her voice, y'know? I love it when she says my name." The statement was out of Harry's mouth before he could stop it, although to be fair, he didn't realize it was true until he actually said it out loud.

"I get it," said Sirius. "Now come on, it's time for you to go to bed. We've got to rise with the sun tomorrow, remember."

"Aren't…aren't you going to punish me?" Harry asked in disbelief.

"Oh, I don't think that will be necessary." Sirius was finally grinning again. "Because what you've got is punishment enough."

"What? What have I got?" Harry demanded.

"Nothing," said Sirius, and he handed Harry a Sleeping Draught. Harry recognized his "trying-not-to-laugh" face. "Just drink this potion and get to bed. I'll see you in the morning."

"Um…okay," said Harry, confused as all hell yet glad to have escaped punishment. Slowly, he made his way back to his bedroom, sipping the potion as he went.


	31. King's Cross

Harry got a nice, dreamless sleep that night due to the Sleep Potion, but that morning he didn't get any rest at all. Sirius shook him awake at the crack of dawn; he took a quick shower and washed his hair (it was important to look good on the first day of school). He packed his school robes in his trunk and put on his slacks and white button-down.

"What time does the train leave?" Harry called into the kitchen, where Sirius was scarfing down bacon like an animal.

"Eleven o'clock!" Sirius yelled back, his voice muffled slightly.

Harry put his dress shoes on the wrong feet by accident, and by the time he had them fixed, Sirius was out near the front door, finished with his bacon and wiping grease off his face. He shoved his feet into his dragon-hide boots and laced them up. Harry grabbed his trunk and they were out the door and into the busy street.

Sirius bewitched Harry's trunk to make it light as a feather, and he tied it, as well as Hedwig's cage, to the motorcycle. Then he used the Invisibility Booster and up they went, flying into the rising sun. King's Cross was in London, just like Sirius and Harry's flat, so it wasn't a very long ride at all. They got there about an hour early, at ten. Harry looked around.

"What's the platform number?" he asked.

"Nine and three-quarters," Sirius replied, grinning.

"But…" Harry looked. There was a big plastic nine, and then a big plastic ten.

"See that?" Sirius pointed at the metal barrier that separated platforms nine and ten. "You just have to walk straight through the wall."

"Are you kidding me?"

"Look, I'll demonstrate," said Sirius. "You just kind of have to lean casually against it, so that no Muggles notice you vanishing into thin air…Watch closely."

Harry watched as Sirius leaned casually against the metal, just as he'd instructed. And to Harry's shock, he disappeared right through it. Harry was reluctant for a moment, but then, if Sirius had done it…

Bracing himself for a collision, Harry grabbed his trolley, which had his trunk and Hedwig's cage on it, and walked slowly up to the metal barrier through which Sirius had disappeared. Eyes closed, he pushed the front of his trolley in as hard as he could and…

No crash? Harry opened his eyes and looked around. The platform was extremely crowded. Since it was only a few minutes after ten, the train wasn't here yet, but behind Harry there was a wrought-iron archway where the barrier had been. It said _Platform Nine and Three-Quarters_.

"Sirius!" Harry cried, running towards Sirius, who was waiting on the platform, hands in his pockets, a broad grin still on his face. "I did it! I got onto the platform!"

"Good job," said Sirius. "Now we just have an hour to kill. There's a snacks cart over there, I think…"

"I could go for some snacks," Harry agreed. They made their way over to the cart and bought two soft pretzels, plus two gigantic cans of soda. Sirius commented that Lily would just kill Sirius if she knew what he was feeding Harry, but they both couldn't help laughing over it.

It was about ten-thirty by the time they finished eating. Fifteen minutes later the train rolled in. It was magnificent, a beautiful scarlet steam engine puffing out smoke. On the side, in gold lettering, it read _Hogwarts Express_. Harry looked down as a cat walked past him. It was on its way to Sirius, who had already been scented by several cats. Then a toad hopped into his hands. At the same time, Harry saw a round-faced boy and his grandmother. The boy was saying, "Gran, I've lost my toad again."

"Oh, _Neville_ ," his grandmother sighed.

"Is this your toad, kid?" Sirius asked kindly, holding the toad out to Neville. "He hopped right into my hands."

"Trevor!" Neville cried happily, grabbing the toad. Sirius smiled at them, then turned around again.

"Oy! Weasley clan!" he barked, his loud voice carrying across the platform. Harry looked where he was looking, and he saw who Sirius was talking to—they weren't exactly hard to pick out of a lineup. All of them had flaming red hair. There was a plump woman, four boys (two of whom looked like twins), and one girl.

"Sirius!" said the plump woman. "My word, is that you?"

"The one and only," he said. "I'm sure you've heard the story—"

"Oh yes," she agreed, nodding. "You were innocent? That's what the _Daily Prophet_ said."

"And it's true," Sirius told her. "By the way, have you met my godson, Harry?"

"Blimey!" said one of the twins. "Harry _Potter_?"

Harry nodded. Both of the twins were gawking at him now.

"I'm Molly Weasley," said the plump woman. "These are my sons, Percy, Fred, George, Ron, and my daughter, Ginny."

Fred, George, Ron and Ginny were all staring at Harry like he was an exhibit in a zoo.

"Hi," he said uncomfortably, searching for his self-confidence, but it was nowhere to be found.

"Harry!"

That voice! Harry turned around to see Hermione, already in her school robes, running towards him. She almost knocked him backwards with her hug. Harry felt better; it was good to see her again!

"Um…Weasleys," said Harry. "This is my best mate, Hermione Granger. Hermione, this is the Weasley family."

They all waved, Percy shook her hand pompously, and Mrs. Weasley said, "Nice to meet you, Hermione."

"Nice to meet you too, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione said politely.

"Well, it's nearly eleven," Sirius said, looking at his watch. "You all had better find seats."

Harry forgot Hermione and the Weasleys for a moment and turned to look at Sirius. Two months of living with Sirius, and now he wouldn't see him until Christmas…yet he couldn't think of a word to say.

"S-Sirius, I…" Harry began shakily.

"I know," Sirius said softly, and he bent down to give Harry a tight hug. When they separated, Harry saw tears shimmering in his eyes.

"I-I'm going to miss you," Harry told him. "Are you sure I'll do all right?"

"Sure I'm sure," Sirius said, tousling Harry's hair, sounding awfully choked-up. "This is…this is the proudest day of my life."

"Thank you," Harry whispered.

"Come on, Harry," Hermione said gently, touching his arm and smiling. "Maybe we can get a compartment together if we hurry."

"All right," he told her, and headed for the train—but then he bolted back, just for one last hug before he hopped on the train, along with the Weasleys and Hermione. Mrs. Weasley and Sirius waved as the train picked up speed.

This was it. They all were going to Hogwarts.


	32. The Hogwarts Express

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: As of now, this story will include Harry's life at Hogwarts, which means some of the dialogue will be taken from the book. Anything penned by JKR will be underlined. If it isn't underlined, it's in my own words. Thank you for reading.**

Harry and Hermione made it onto the train without incident. Ron followed them. They picked a compartment right near the front of the train. Hermione sat down next to Harry, smiled at the both of them, pulled a book ( _Hogwarts, A History_ ) out of her trunk, and began to read.

"Are you really Harry Potter?" Ron blurted out. When Harry nodded, he continued, "And have you really got—you know…"

Ron pointed at Harry's forehead. This, surely, was what Sirius had been talking about. Lots of people would want to know if indeed he was Harry Potter. Harry wondered if he should have brought two valid forms of ID, just so people could really be sure.

Harry pushed back his bangs so Ron could see the lightning scar.

"So that's where You-Know-Who—"

"Yeah, but I can't remember it."

"Nothing?"

Hermione looked up from her book then.

"Do you really need to ask him about that?" she demanded. "It's rather rude, you know."

Harry was internally grateful, but he found himself saying, "Oh no, I don't mind...I'm used to paparazzi."

"I imagine you are," said Hermione, getting back to her book.

"Are all your family wizards?" Harry asked Ron.

"Er—yes, I think so," said Ron. "I think Mum's got a second cousin who's an accountant, but we never talk about him."

Harry figured Ron came from an old Wizarding family, just like Sirius had—although he was pretty sure Ron didn't have a terrible family like Sirius's. Not all of the old blood was bad, as evidenced in his father's side of the family.

"I heard you went to live with Muggles," said Ron. "What are they like?"

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Horrible—well, not all of them," Harry replied. "My aunt and uncle and cousin are, though. Wish I'd had three wizard brothers."

"Five," said Ron, and then he was off explaining his very large family, about how he was always overshadowed by his brothers, and how he never got anything new. He introduced Harry to Scabbers, his fat gray rat.

"I know all about hand-me-down stuff," Harry said sympathetically. "Before I met Sirius, I was always forced to wear my cousin's clothes. I mean, at least your robes fit. None of my cousin's clothes ever fit because he's so fat, he must have weighed thirty pounds at his very birth."

Ron laughed, and Hermione rolled her eyes again.

Around twelve-thirty the snacks witch came rattling by. She slid open their compartment door and asked, "Anything off the cart, dears?"

Ron turned pink and muttered that he'd brought sandwiches. Hermione made to get up.

"Don't worry about it, I'm buying," Harry told her. "We'll take the lot!"

Several minutes later, Harry, Ron and Hermione had a whole pile of sweets in their compartment. Hermione seemed to forget about her dentist ancestry for a moment and dug in, just like Harry and Ron did.

"What are these?" Harry asked, holding up a Chocolate Frog. "They're not _really_ frogs, are they?"

"No," said Ron. "But see what the card is. I'm missing Agrippa."

When Harry seemed confused, Ron explained about how Chocolate Frogs have cards enclosed, each with a famous witch or wizard.

"Oh," said Hermione. "Sort of like baseball cards, then."

"What's baseball?" Ron asked her interestedly.

"Never mind," said Hermione.

Harry unwrapped his Chocolate Frog and looked at the card. He was surprised when he saw a familiar face staring back at him—it was Albus Dumbledore. The picture was moving, just like the pictures Harry had of his parents.

"You know how they do that?" Hermione pointed to the moving picture. "All you need to do is take a photo with an ordinary camera, and then when you get them developed in the darkroom, you use a special potion, and that's what makes the pictures move."

"Huh," said Ron.

"Let's see what it says on his card," Harry added, turning it over.

 **ALBUS DUMBLEDORE**

 **Current Headmaster of Hogwarts**

 **Considered by many the greatest wizard of modern times, Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the Dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel. Professor Dumbledore enjoys chamber music and tenpin bowling.**

"In the Muggle world, people just stay put in photos," Harry told Ron.

"Do they? What, they don't move at all? _Weird!"_

They ate the Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans next. It seemed to Harry that Hermione had done her research on many things, but there were still some parts of the Wizarding world she didn't know about, either. This was evidenced by her biting into a dirt-flavored bean.

"Gross," she said, picking up a pink one. "This strawberry might get the taste out of my mouth—ugh, salmon!"

Harry and Ron laughed, and so did Hermione. It seemed she had the worst luck with the beans, although Harry did get a grass-flavored one. Neville came in not long after, looking for Trevor the toad, who had escaped once again.

"Don't know why he's so bothered," said Ron after Neville left. "If I'd brought a toad I'd lose it as quick as I could. Mind you, I brought Scabbers, so I can't talk. He might have died and you wouldn't know the difference. I tried to turn him yellow yesterday to make him more interesting, but the spell didn't work. I'll show you, look…"

Ron pulled Charlie's battered old wand out of his trunk. Hermione looked up from her book to watch, and Ron said a rhyme:

 _"Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow,_

 _Turn this stupid, fat rat yellow."_

Nothing happened.

"Are you sure that's a real spell?" said Hermione, looking critical. "Well, it's not a very good one, is it?"

"No," Ron agreed glumly. "George gave it to me, bet he knew it was a dud."

"All the spells I've tried have worked for me." Hermione shrugged.

"Oh yeah, she's really good," Harry told Ron, remembering Hermione's prowess at magic.

"Harry's good, too, though," Hermione added. "Yesterday when we were hanging out, he made my water cup levitate to me."

"Oh, well, y'know…practice makes perfect," said Harry, feeling his face turn a little hot when she smiled at him. But it was so good—she remembered their night together! He smiled back.

"You guys aren't…?" Ever-so-subtle as usual, Ron pointed to Hermione, then to Harry, and raised his eyebrows. Harry didn't know what he meant, but Hermione laughed.

"Oh no, we're just friends," she told him. "Interesting observation, though."

Harry thought about this for a moment, then something clicked—Ron thought Hermione was Harry's _girlfriend_. Well, that was weird…why would he think that? They were just best mates, weren't they? Yes, of course… _if Hermione was my girlfriend,_ Harry thought, _we'd probably be kissing all the time, like Sirius and Barbara do._

"Oh," said Ron. "I thought maybe you two were…y'know, going steady or something."

This comment was followed by a very awkward silence, which spiraled horribly until Hermione (to Harry's relief) changed the subject.

"Did you hear about Gringotts?" she asked them. "The break-in? It was in the _Daily Prophet_."

"How do you get the _Daily Prophet_ if you have Muggle parents?" Harry asked.

"When I went to Diagon Alley to get my wand and books and everything, I got a subscription to the _Daily Prophet_ as well," she explained. "I like to keep up-to-date on what's happening in the Wizarding world—and this was big."

"I heard about it too," said Ron. "Someone tried to rob a high-security vault, didn't they?"

Harry remembered Vault 711 and Bessie the dragon.

"Really?" he asked. "What happened to them?"

"Nothing happened!" Hermione told him. "That's why it's so important. The thief hasn't been caught."

"My dad said it must have been a really powerful Dark wizard, to get past all the Gringotts security," said Ron, "but what's odd is, they don't think the thief took anything. Of course, everyone gets scared when something like this happens in case You-Know-Who's behind it."

They thought about it in silence for a moment, until Ron brought up Quidditch.

"I took Hermione for a ride on my broom," Harry told Ron, grinning and gesturing to Hermione. "She didn't like it so much, I reckon."

"No, we won't be doing that again," said Hermione. "I'm just really scared of flying."

"Are you saying you have your own broom?" Ron asked Harry. "Which one?"

"I have the Nimbus Two Thousand," said Harry. "Sirius—my godfather—bought it for me in Diagon Alley as my birthday gift."

"Wow!" Ron looked shocked. "He got you the _Nimbus Two Thousand?_ Blimey, I wish I had a racing broom that good."

"You can always borrow mine," said Harry. "I mean…not this year, since first years can't have their own brooms. But next year, you can fly on it anytime you want."

"Thanks," said Ron. "I might have to take you up on that. Do you have a Quidditch team?"

"No," Harry told him. "I've played, but I don't know the teams."

"My favorites are the Chudley Cannons," said Ron, and he was telling Harry all about his favorite team when their compartment door slid open again.

In walked three boys. Harry recognized the one in the middle—it was Lucius Malfoy's son, Draco. Harry remembered their first encounter, as well as Sirius's warning about this boy, and hesitated to say hello.

" _What were you doing, talking to Lucius Malfoy's son?" Sirius hissed. "I don't want you mixing with people like that!"_

" _M-Malfoy?" said Harry. "You mean, the family your cousin married into?"_

" _The very same!" Sirius said angrily. "I've never met the boy, but I could tell just by looking at him. He's the picture of his father, right down to that awful sneer. Don't go hanging around with him at school. I mean it."_

" _Trust me, I won't," said Harry. "He was very rude—and he said people from Muggle families shouldn't be allowed to go to Hogwarts."_

" _Of course he did," Sirius growled. "Narcissa married out of one snobby, prejudiced family right into the next!"_

"Is it true?" Draco Malfoy asked. "They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment. So it's you, is it?"

"Yes," said Harry, looking at the other two boys. They were both huge and very mean-looking.

"Oh, this is Crabbe and this is Goyle," said Malfoy, noticing Harry watching them. "And my name's Malfoy. Draco Malfoy."

Ron disguised his laugh with a cough. Hermione was watching them all with a slight frown.

"Think my name's funny, do you?" said Malfoy. "No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford."

"Well, your father probably says a lot of things," Harry said angrily, "all of which are snobby and prejudiced, and none of which are true."

Hermione gave a small gasp, and Ron snorted with laughter again. But Malfoy narrowed his pale eyes.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he demanded.

"Old blood is counting for less everywhere," said Harry. He was basically just parroting things he had heard Sirius say, but Malfoy didn't have to know that. "Anyone who cares about that stuff is clinging to a time that's long gone. What matters is your magical ability, not what sort of blood you've got—for example, my friend Hermione here. She's the most talented witch I've _ever_ met, and nobody in her family is magic at all."

Hermione's face turned bright red, but she smiled. Harry noticed she did it without her teeth. Malfoy looked livid.

"I'd be careful if I were you, Potter," he said. "Unless you're a bit politer you'll go the same way as your parents. They didn't know what was good for them, either. You hang around with riffraff like the Weasleys and that Mudblood, it'll rub off on you."

Harry and Ron both stood up furiously. Sirius had told Harry what "Mudblood" meant.

"Say that again," Ron said, his face red with anger.

"Oh, you're going to fight us, are you?" Malfoy sneered.

"Unless you apologize to her RIGHT NOW!" Harry yelled, surprising even himself as he grabbed the front of Malfoy's robes. Unfortunately, that was when Goyle caught him from behind and put him in a headlock.

"Harry!" Hermione shrieked.

"Let him go!" Ron yelled, just before Crabbe had him in a headlock, too.

"As if Potty and the Weasel really thought they could win a fight with us." Malfoy looked triumphant. "But of course _we've_ won."

"Not quite," said Hermione, standing up. Her face was still red, but this time it was because she was angry, not embarrassed. She withdrew her wand from her robes. "Make them let go!"

"And just what are you going to do with that?" Malfoy scoffed, pointing at her wand.

"I'm going to curse you if you don't let Harry and Ron go right now!"

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah!" Hermione pointed her wand at Crabbe, Goyle, and Malfoy, saying the same curse three times: _"Locomotor Mortis! Locomotor Mortis! Locomotor Mortis!"_

It was the same one Hermione had practiced on Sirius, and it worked again—all three targets were frozen from the waist down. As Crabbe and Goyle fell to the floor, their grips slackened, releasing Harry and Ron.

"Wow, thanks, Hermione!" Harry gasped, running to give her a hug. "You saved us both!"

"Yeah," said Ron. "Thanks!"

"It was no problem at all," said Hermione, beaming, this time with her teeth. Then she turned to Malfoy and his comrades. "You'd better get out before I use the Full Body-Bind on you!"

"How can we?" Malfoy yelped. "We can't move our legs!"

" _Finite! Finite! Finite!"_ Hermione freed them all. "Now go."

Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle didn't need telling twice. As soon as Hermione had freed them from the curse, they ran out of the compartment as fast as their newly-mobilized legs could carry them.

"I've heard of the Malfoy family," Ron told them darkly. "They were some of the first to come back to our side after You-Know-Who disappeared. Said they'd been bewitched. My dad doesn't believe it. He says Malfoy's father didn't need an excuse to go over to the Dark Side."

"I know about him too," said Harry. "His mother is Sirius's cousin. Sirius really, really hates the Malfoys."

"Well, after seeing that, I can't say I blame him," said Hermione, looking out into the hallway. "Why did you two get so angry when he called me that name before, though? What does it mean, do you know?"

"Mudblood is a really bad word," Harry explained. "It refers to someone Muggle-born, like you. Some wizards, like Malfoy's family, think they're better than others because their whole family was magic. So they use words like Mudblood—you know, dirty blood. But the rest of us know it doesn't matter."

"Yeah, that was some pretty cool magic you just did," Ron added.

Just then, they heard a voice echoing throughout the train.

"We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time," it said. "Please leave your luggage on the train. It will be taken to the school separately."

Harry suddenly felt nervous; Ron and Hermione looked nervous, too. When the train stopped, everyone pushed their way towards the door and climbed out onto a tiny, dark platform. The dark air was chilly; Harry, Ron and Hermione were all shivering. Then Harry saw a lamp, and heard a voice: "Firs' years! Firs' years over here!"

Looking up to see who was talking, Harry noticed it was Hagrid, the giant who had retrieved the You-Know-What from Vault 713 and (according to Sirius) brought it to Hogwarts. Was it there now, he wondered?

"C'mon, follow me—any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!"

Everyone followed Hagrid down a steep, narrow path. Harry was sure trees were surrounding them. Neville, the toad boy, could be heard sniffling a little.

"Yeh'll get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," Hagrid called, "jus' round this bend here."

Everyone said, "Ooooh!"

The narrow path had opened and now they could see a big lake—the Black Lake, Harry realized, the one into which his own father had once dared Sirius to jump, stark naked. There was also a squid there, he knew, but he didn't see it. But he wasn't looking at the lake for long, because there was Hogwarts, even more beautiful than he had imagined it. Hogwarts was a huge castle, with many towers and turrets, and, if what Sirius had said was true, even more secrets. Its windows were sparkling in the night sky.

"No more'n four to a boat!"

There was Hagrid's voice again. Harry looked where he was pointing, and he saw a bunch of little boats in the water by the shore. Harry, Ron, and Hermione climbed into a boat. Neville became their fourth passenger.

"Everyone in?" shouted Hagrid. "Right then—FORWARD!"

The boats started to move off all at once. Everyone was staring at the castle on the cliff. When they were finally across the lake, Harry was happy to see that Hagrid found Neville's toad, just like Sirius had last time. Maybe Hagrid was a friend of the animals, like Sirius.

They all scrambled out onto the rocks and crowded around the massive oak doors of Hogwarts Castle. Hagrid raised his fist, and they all held their breath as he knocked on the door.

 **TO BE CONTINUED!**


	33. Not Slytherin

When the door opened, Harry noticed a tall, black-haired witch wearing emerald-green robes. Her face wasn't mean, but it was still very stern, and Harry had the feeling that this witch was not someone you wanted to piss off.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," said Hagrid.

"Thank you, Hagrid," Professor McGonagall said back. "I will take them from here."

All of the first years clambered inside. Harry was glad to get out of the cold; he got a pleasant sort of tingling feeling in his stomach when he felt Hermione's hand slip into his. It was the same way her hugs felt—strange and new, maybe a little bit scary, but like that was where he belonged.

The entrance hall alone was so big, two versions of Sirius and Harry's current flat could have fit inside it, and probably four of Sirius's old studio. There was a high ceiling and the stone walls were lit with torches, which reminded Harry of Gringotts. Facing them was a staircase made of marble, which obviously led to the upper floors of the castle.

Professor McGonagall herded Harry, Ron, Hermione and the rest of the first years across the stone floor and into a small, empty chamber off the hall. Every first year there looked as nervous as Harry felt.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room.

"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards."

Harry remembered what Sirius had told him about Slytherin and the witches and wizards who got Sorted into that house. _Doubtful_ , he thought.

"While you are at Hogwarts," Professor McGonagall continued, "your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will lose points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours. The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting.

"I shall return when we are ready for you," she said finally. "Please wait quietly."

And she left.

"How do we get Sorted?" Hermione asked nervously, squeezing Harry's hand a little tighter.

"Some sort of test, I think," said Ron, his face pale. "My brother Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking."

"It doesn't hurt, Hermione," Harry told her, trying to sound comforting. "Don't worry. Sirius told me how it works. All you do is put a hat on your head—you know, a magic hat—and it tells you where to go. Sirius said the hat has made some 'questionable decisions' in the past, but that overall its judgment is pretty good."

"What?" Ron scowled. "I'll kill Fred, he said we had to wrestle a troll."

Harry laughed despite the seriousness of the situation. "I don't think we're ever going to have to do that!"

"You're lucky you have Sirius, Harry," said Hermione, who still would not let go of Harry's hand.

"I know, I know," Harry agreed. "I would be lost without Sirius."

Then something startling happened; Harry jumped about a foot in the air and then there were some screams from behind him.

About twenty ghosts had come through the wall, not looking at the first years, apparently arguing over something. One of the ghosts, who looked like a fat little monk, was saying, "Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance—"

"My dear Friar," said another ghost, this one wearing a ruff and tights, "haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not really even a ghost—I say, what are you all doing here?"

None of the students answered him.

"New students!" said the Fat Friar smilingly. "About to be Sorted, I suppose?"

Several people nodded, but still nobody spoke.

"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" the Fat Friar continued. "My old house, you know."

"Move along now," said a now-familiar strict voice. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start."

Professor McGonagall was back. The ghosts left, then, drifting away through the wall, the same way they had come inside.

"Now, form a line, and follow me," she instructed everyone.

Hermione finally let go of Harry's hand and moved in front of him; Ron got behind him. They walked out of the chamber, across the hall, and through a pair of double doors, which led into the Great Hall, and the Great Hall was amazing.

Thousands and thousands of candles floated in midair over four long tables, where the second through seventh years were already seated. Some looked interested, others looked hungry. Each table was set with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was the High Table, where the teachers were sitting, but Harry couldn't see the teachers clearly from where he was standing. Harry looked up and saw that the ceiling was black and sprinkled with stars.

"It's bewitched to look like the sky outside," Hermione whispered to him. "I read about it in _Hogwarts, A History_."

Harry was waiting to see the Sorting Hat that his godfather had told him about. Finally, Professor McGonagall placed a four-legged stool in front of them, and on top of that she placed a ragged, patched wizard's hat. It was so filthy, Harry was sure Aunt Petunia wouldn't have let it in the Dursleys' house.

For a moment, there was silence. Then the hat twitched, a rip near the brim opened like a mouth, and it started to sing.

 _Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,_

 _But don't judge on what you see,_

 _I'll eat myself if you can find_

 _A smarter hat than me._

 _You can keep your bowlers black,_

 _Your top hats sleek and tall,_

 _For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat_

 _And I can cap them all._

 _There's nothing hidden in your head_

 _The Sorting Hat can't see,_

 _So try me on and I will tell you_

 _Where you ought to be_.

 _You might belong in Gryffindor,_

 _Where dwell the brave at heart,_

 _Their daring, nerve, and chivalry_

 _Set Gryffindors apart;_

 _You might belong in Hufflepuff,_

 _Where they are just and loyal,_

 _Those patient Hufflepuffs are true_

 _And unafraid of toil;_

 _Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,_

 _If you've a ready mind,_

 _Where those of wit and learning_

 _Will always find their kind;_

 _Or perhaps in Slytherin_

 _You'll make your real friends,_

 _Those cunning folk use any means_

 _To achieve their ends._

 _So put me on! Don't be afraid!_

 _And don't get in a flap!_

 _You're in safe hands (though I have none)_

 _For I'm a Thinking Cap!_

Everyone clapped after the Sorting Hat finished its song. It bowed to each table and then became still again. Harry was glad he just had to try on the hat, but he was becoming more nervous by the minute. What if he got Sorted into Slytherin? He was wearing the Gryffindor socks Sirius had bought for him, but would they be enough?

Professor McGonagall stepped forward. In her hands was a long roll of parchment paper.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be Sorted," she said. "Abbott, Hannah!"

Hannah Abbot, a pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails, became a Hufflepuff. After that came Susan Bones, who joined Hannah Abbott at the Hufflepuff table, and Terry Boot, who became a Ravenclaw, and then Mandy Brocklehurst became a Ravenclaw too. The first Gryffindor was a girl named Lavender Brown. Since Gryffindors tended to be very loud people, they cheered the loudest when Lavender became one of their own. Fred and George were cat-calling.

The first Slytherin was Millicent Bulstrode, a huge, mean-looking girl who kind of looked like a female version of Crabbe or Goyle (and that was no compliment). Harry looked over at the Slytherin table, which was on the far right, as Millicent stomped to her seat. He wondered if it was his imagination, after all Sirius (not to mention Ron) had told him, but they didn't look very nice.

More and more first years got Sorted. Harry's heart leapt into his throat when they reached the G's. What if he and Hermione got Sorted into different Houses? He didn't think he could bear it. She was smart, so they might put her in Ravenclaw. But then, she was kind and loyal and hardworking too, so they might put her in Hufflepuff! She probably wouldn't get into Slytherin, because there had probably never been a Muggle-born in Slytherin. But there was only a one-in-three chance that she and Harry would get the same House, assuming Harry got Gryffindor too. _Please, please, please_ …

"Wish me luck, Harry," Hermione whispered, squeezing Harry's hand one more time, and she ran up to the stool and jammed the hat eagerly on her head.

"Good luck," Harry said hoarsely.

"Are you _sure_ you're not dating?" Ron hissed.

"No, we aren't!" Harry insisted.

For some people, the Sorting Hat shouted out the House right away, but for others, it took quite a long time to decide. Hermione was one of the latter group. It seemed that the Sorting Hat was having a difficult time with her, but after nearly four minutes, the hat declared her a Gryffindor. Harry relaxed just a little as Hermione waved brightly to him on her way to the Gryffindor table.

The relaxation didn't last for long, though. As Harry watched Neville Longbottom get Sorted (his Sorting took some time too, just like Hermione's), he wondered if maybe he would just sit and sit on the stool for ages until finally Professor McGonagall yanked it off his head and told him to go home. Hopefully not… _I mean, you have done magic_ , he reminded himself. Neville became a Gryffindor, too.

When Malfoy's name was called, he showed no signs of nervousness like the rest. The hat didn't hesitate at all with him, either. It had barely touched his head when it declared him a Slytherin. Smirking with pride, he went to join Crabbe and Goyle at the table on the far right.

There weren't many people left now. They finished with the M's, got past the N's, and finally…Harry got more and more nervous as Professor McGonagall called out names. Why did there have to be so many people with last names starting with P? Or why couldn't his father's last name have started with an A? Why couldn't this just be over? Why—

"Potter, Harry!"

Harry heard the familiar whispering as he stepped forward. As he placed the Sorting Hat on his head and it fell down over his eyes, everyone was staring at him.

"Hmm," said the hat's voice in his ear. "Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind, either. There's talent, oh my goodness, yes—and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that's interesting…So where shall I put you?"

 _Not Slytherin_ , Harry thought, gripping the edges of the stool. _Not Slytherin_ …

"Not Slytherin, eh?" said the hat. "Are you sure? You could be great, you know, it's all here in your head, and Slytherin will help you on your way to greatness, no doubt…"

 _My godfather Sirius said Slytherin is a House for Dark wizards_ , Harry thought. _I'm not a Dark wizard_.

"I remember Sorting him," said the small voice wisely. "He had his own reasons for hating Slytherin. There were some memories in his head that weren't so nice."

 _Please don't put me in Slytherin_ , Harry insisted.

"Well, if you're sure," finished the hat. "Better be…GRYFFINDOR!"

The last word, "Gryffindor", was shouted out to the whole hall. Harry felt relief overcome him. It was over, and he was in the same house as Hermione, his best friend at Hogwarts. He was getting the loudest cheer of all. Percy Weasley gave him a hearty handshake; Fred and George yelled, "We got Potter! We got Potter!" Harry grinned at them as he sat down next to Hermione. She beamed at him and whispered, "Congratulations!"

"I guess it was my Gryffindor socks," Harry said jokingly, and she laughed.

By the time Harry turned his attention to the Sorting again, a girl named Lisa Turpin had just been Sorted into Ravenclaw and now it was Ron's turn. He was pale green as he walked up to the hat and put it on his head. Harry crossed his fingers under the table (he thought Ron was going to make a good friend, too). Only a second later, the Sorting Hat shouted, "Gryffindor!"

Ron sat down on Harry's other side. Percy congratulated him on making Gryffindor. Blaise Zabini became a Slytherin, and then Professor McGonagall took the Sorting Hat away. Harry was looking down at his empty plate, thinking about how hungry he was, and then Dumbledore stood up.

"Welcome!" he said, looking pleased. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!"

As he sat back down, everybody clapped and cheered again. Since Dumbledore had tried to modify Harry's memory the first time they had met, Harry wasn't used to the headmaster being so benign. But he hoped they could just eat now.

"I'm hungry," Harry commented.

"Look down!" Hermione replied, her voice hushed.

Harry gasped. The dishes in front of him were heaped with food—and they even had those miniature ears of corn-on-the-cob Sirius had been telling him about! There were even peppermint humbugs. So it seemed Sirius had been telling the truth. Harry would definitely not go hungry at Hogwarts. He piled his plate with a bit of everything (except the peppermints) and started to eat.

They talked to Nearly Headless Nick, who was the ghost in the ruff and tights—someone had tried to behead him, but not done it right. After the feast was over, the desserts appeared, and the talk turned to their families.

"I'm half-and-half," said a sandy-haired boy named Seamus Finnigan. "Me dad's a Muggle. Mum didn't tell him she was a witch until after they were married. Bit of a nasty shock for him."

"She couldn't," said Harry. "My godfather has a Muggle girlfriend, and he says he can't tell her he's a wizard unless they get married."

"It's some clause in the Statute of Secrecy," Ron agreed. "I've heard Dad talk about it. There are a few other exceptions, too, he said, but I can't remember what they are."

"Wait a minute, do you mean Sirius Black?" said Seamus.

"Don't worry, he was innocent," Harry said. "Someone else framed him."

"I know _that_ , everyone's read the article by now…" Seamus gestured at the High Table. "But isn't that him up there?"


	34. Start-of-Term Announcements

Did Seamus Finnigan just say he had seen _Sirius_ at the High Table? Harry's head swiveled around to look, and sure enough, there he was, talking animatedly to Hagrid.

"Do you think Dumbledore would mind if I go up and see him?" Harry asked nobody in particular.

"I don't think he would," said Percy. "He _is_ your primary caretaker, isn't he?"

"Yeah," said Harry, standing up. "I'm going to go say hello."

Harry got up and ran to the High Table, trying to ignore the whispers that followed him as he walked by. Finally, he reached Sirius. At first he was a little taken aback by Sirius's appearance; it was the first time Harry had ever seen Sirius wearing wizard's robes, for one thing. They were made of the finest silk, red with gold lining. His hair was loose, but he had definitely had a shower and a shave.

"So I petted the dragon on the head, and I said to her, 'See ya, Bessie!'" Sirius was saying, and Hagrid let out a gale of booming laughter.

"Sirius!" Harry cried. "What are you doing here?"

"What does it look like?" said Sirius innocently. "Teaching, of course!"

"You didn't tell me!" Harry sputtered, a mixture of indignation, happiness, shock and disbelief all overwhelming him at once.

"It was a surprise," Sirius replied serenely. "And blimey, was it ever hard for me to keep quiet. But yeah, I'm the new Care of Magical Creatures teacher."

"Well, what's the story?" Harry demanded.

"Dumbledore and I got into a huge argument over whether or not I should be allowed to keep you," Sirius said, lowering his voice so that the headmaster, who was talking to Professor McGonagall, couldn't hear him. "Tempers flared, so eventually Remus had to step in."

"What happened then?"

"Remus has a way of making people feel ashamed of themselves," Sirius explained. "So he chewed Dumbledore out, and Dumbledore apologized and said maybe he could help make it up to me—to us—by offering me a position at the school. Professor Kettleburn jut retired last year, you see, so Dumbledore needed a teacher, and Care of Magical Creatures was always my favorite class, so I was happy to take the job."

"That's great, Sirius!" Harry beamed. Leaving Sirius had been hard, and now he didn't have to. It would be wonderful to have Sirius for a teacher, too.

"I'm afraid you won't see me until Friday, though," said Sirius, giving Harry an apologetic smile. "I teach the Gryffindor first years on Friday afternoons."

"I'm glad you're here at all, to be honest," Harry said blissfully, giving Sirius a hug. Sirius patted him on the back.

"I'm so proud you made it into Gryffindor, by the way," he said. "I'm sure you'll help us win the House Cup."

"Who's 'us'?" Harry grinned. "Haven't you graduated?"

"Oh, you know how Houseism is," Sirius said, rolling his eyes. "Loyalty to one's House runs deep. But I knew you'd make it into Gryffindor."

"Yeah, I know…" Harry suddenly felt a little twinge of guilt. What would Sirius say if Harry told him the Sorting Hat had tried to put him in Slytherin? Would he not want him anymore? Sirius said he would love Harry no matter what, but Sirius hated Slytherin so much…

"You had better get back to your friends," said Sirius, smiling and gesturing towards the Gryffindor table. "I reckon Dumbledore is going to do the start-of-term announcements soon."

"Right," said Harry, running back to the Gryffindor table again.

"What happened?" asked Hermione.

"Sirius is our new Care of Magical Creatures teacher!" Harry announced. "Unfortunately, he teaches Gryffindor first years on Fridays, so we'll have to wait until then to see him. But don't worry. He's a great person. I'm sure his classes will be really fun."

Harry looked up at the High Table again. Sirius had resumed his lively conversation with Hagrid. Dumbledore was talking to Professor McGonagall. Professor Quirrell, who was wearing a giant turban, was talking to a teacher with greasy black hair, a hooked nose, and sallow skin.

Suddenly, the teacher looked into Harry's eyes and glared at him…and that was when Harry felt a sharp, hot pain in his scar.

"Ouch!" Harry slapped his hand on his forehead.

"What is it?" said Percy.

"N-Nothing."

The pain in Harry's scar had gone as quickly as it had come. But the look the teacher had given Harry was very disturbing. Harry had a hunch that this teacher didn't like him at all.

"Who's that teacher talking to Professor Quirrell?" he asked Percy.

"Oh, you know Quirrell already, do you? No wonder he's looking so nervous, that's Professor Snape. He teaches Potions, but he doesn't want to—everyone knows he's after Quirrell's job. Knows an awful lot about the Dark Arts, Snape."

Harry watched Snape for some time, but Snape didn't look his way again. Before he knew it, the desserts had disappeared, and Dumbledore stood up. The hall fell silent.

"Ahem—just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you. First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well. I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their House teams should contact Madam Hooch."

Dumbledore paused, supposedly for emphasis, and then added, "I must tell you that the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

Harry was one of the few people who laughed.

"He's not serious?" he muttered to Percy.

"Must be." Percy frowned at Dumbledore. "It's odd, because he usually gives us a reason why we're not allowed to go somewhere—the forest's full of dangerous beasts, everyone knows that. I do think he might have told us prefects, at least."

"On a happier note," Dumbledore was saying, "I am pleased to welcome two new teachers to our ranks this year. First, Professor Quirinus Quirrell, who has kindly consented to fill the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

Quirrell stood up and bowed, although Harry noticed he was twitchy again. The applause was rather noncommittal.

"As to our second new appointment," Dumbledore continued, "well, I am sorry to tell you that Professor Kettleburn, our Care of Magical Creatures teacher, retired at the end of last year in order to enjoy more time with his remaining limbs. However, I am delighted to say that his place will be filled by a name most of you probably know…Sirius Black."

Almost everyone had heard Sirius's story by now, so nobody looked afraid. The applause for Sirius was much more enthusiastic, especially at the Gryffindor table, for he was one of their own. Harry, Hermione and the Weasleys stood up.

"As many of you will be aware, Professor Black was convicted of murder ten years ago," Dumbledore continued. "If you have not heard the story already, he has recently been tried by the Wizengamot and has been found innocent of all charges. He was framed for those murders. The culprit has not been caught, but his name is Peter Pettigrew. Professor Black has requested that you all memorize his name and learn what he looks like so that we can work together to put this dangerous man in Azkaban. It is unlikely you will run into him at Hogwarts; however, if you do see him or think you see him, do not approach him. Report your sighting to the nearest Prefect or teacher immediately."

Harry saw Percy suddenly looking excited. Percy would probably love it if someone reported Peter to him. Less exciting was the look on Professor Snape's face. Snape was glaring at Sirius. And it wasn't just your average ordinary everyday hate. It was abhorrence to the utmost.

"And before we go to bed," cried Dumbledore, "let us sing the school song!"

Dumbledore flicked his wand, and a gold ribbon flew out of it. The ribbon shaped itself into words.

"Everyone pick their favorite tune," said Dumbledore, "and off we go!"

"Come on, let's use the theme song to _Love and Lust_ ," Harry whispered to Hermione, referencing the worst soap opera they had ever watched together. Hermione nodded eagerly and they joined the school in singing:

 _Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,_

 _Teach us something please,_

 _Whether we be old and bald_

 _Or young with scabby knees,_

 _Our heads could do with filling_

 _With some interesting stuff,_

 _For now they're bare and full of air,_

 _Dead flies and bits of fluff,_

 _So teach us things worth knowing,_

 _Bring back what we've forgot,_

 _Just do your best, we'll do the rest,_

 _And learn until our brains all rot._

Since everybody was singing a different tune, they all finished at different times. Hermione and Harry finished together. So did the Weasley twins, who finished last, as they had chosen a very slow funeral march. When they had finished, Dumbledore was one of the ones who clapped the loudest.

"Ah, music," he said, wiping his eyes. "A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"

Percy the Prefect led the Gryffindor first years through the chattering crowds, out of the Great Hall, and up the marble staircase. Harry waved to Sirius as they left, and Sirius waved back. Harry wished that the Gryffindor common room wasn't so high up in the school. The food coma was setting in, so he wasn't exactly pleased to climb staircase after staircase just to get to his dorm. Why didn't Hogwarts have elevators?

They ran into Peeves the Poltergeist, whom Harry had heard about from Sirius. Peeves tried to assault them with walking sticks. Percy threatened to go to the Bloody Baron (the Slytherin ghost and the only one of whom Peeves was truly frightened), so Peeves disappeared and dropped the walking sticks on Neville's head. Harry was getting the impression that Neville was one of those "why-does-everything-happen-to-me" people.

Finally, at the end of a long corridor, they reached a portrait of a very fat woman in a pink silk dress.

"Password?" said the Fat Lady.

"Caput Draconis," said Percy. The portrait swung forward to admit him, and everyone climbed into the Gryffindor common room, which was cozy and round, full of squashy armchairs.

Hermione waved goodnight to Harry as she walked with the rest of the girls to the girls' dorms. Harry and Ron, meanwhile, went to the boys' dorms. Harry had to climb _another_ staircase (they were definitely in one of the towers) and finally they reached the dorms. Harry and Ron had been assigned a dorm together; their other three roommates were Neville Longbottom, Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan. It was of course one of the newer dorms, having five four-posters, each hung with deep, red, velvet curtains. Each trunk had been placed carefully at the foot of the owner's bed. Too tired to talk, everyone changed into their pajamas and collapsed into bed. Harry was wearing the emerald-green pajamas Sirius had bought for him.

"Great food, isn't it?" Ron muttered. "Get _off_ , Scabbers! He's chewing my sheets."

That night, Harry had a very strange dream. He was wearing Professor Quirrell's turban, and it was talking to him, telling him he had to transfer to Slytherin because it was his destiny. Harry told the turban he didn't want to be in Slytherin. It got heavier and heavier; he tried to pull it off, but it just got tighter. Malfoy laughed at him, then turned into Snape, who laughed…the laugh became high and cold…then there was that familiar flash of green light and Harry awoke, shaky and sweaty.

The next morning, he didn't remember the dream at all.

 **PLEASE NOTE: In case you're wondering about Sirius's new job, Care of Magical Creatures was the only class I could realistically see Sirius teaching besides Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Quirrell already has that job, so Care of Magical Creatures it is. Also, yes, I am aware that in the books the class isn't available to first years. However, since this story is about Sirius and Harry, I thought my readers would like it better if Harry could be a student in Sirius's class, so in this story, Care of Magical Creatures is a core class that the first years are required to take, just like Charms, Potions, Transfiguration, Herbology, etc. I scheduled it for Friday afternoons because in the actual book Harry had Friday afternoons free, so adding one extra class this way won't interfere with the rest of his schedule. And yes, they still have it with the Slytherins! I hope this clears up any confusion about the classes and if you have any questions, please feel free to ask me in the reviews or via private-messaging! And again, please remember NOT to post spoilers for this story in the reviews!**


	35. Cauldrons and Cruppies

"There, look."

"Where?"

"Next to the bushy-haired buck-toothed girl."

"Wearing the glasses?"

"Did you see his face?"

"Did you see his scar?"

As soon as Harry stepped out of his dorm the next day, everyone was constantly whispering about him. They weren't being discreet at all, craning their necks and standing on tiptoes just so they could get an eyeful. Sometimes they just stared.

Things were a little better for Harry when he headed to the Gryffindor common room and rendezvoused with Hermione. She guided him along, holding his hand. She had a good memory for where things were, so when he was walking with her (he always wanted to walk with her) they didn't really get lost that much.

Hermione stayed behind in Charms the first day to ask tiny Professor Flitwick a question, and she told Harry and Ron to go on without her. Inevitably, since they both had mainly been relying on Hermione to tell them where to go, they got lost. They managed to get in trouble with Argus Filch, the caretaker—they had been trying to force their way through a door that apparently was the entrance to the out-of-bounds corridor on the third floor.

"We were just lost, Mr. Filch, I swear," Harry was saying.

"Don't lie!" Filch hollered. "I know you were trying to break into the Forbidden Corridor!"

"Why would we want to die a very painful death?" Ron said.

"I don't know," said Filch, "but I'll lock you in the dungeons, I will, I—"

But they never heard the end of the sentence, luckily, for Professor Quirrell turned up then and rescued them.

Sirius had told Harry about Filch, but he didn't tell Harry about Filch's foul cat, Mrs. Norris. That was probably because Filch didn't have a cat in Sirius's day—cats don't usually live upwards of twenty years. What struck Harry as weird was that they seemed to have some kind of connection, so that when Mrs. Norris noticed you doing something wrong, somehow Filch would know.

Harry's classes at Hogwarts were very different from his classes in primary Muggle school. Every Wednesday night they studied the skies in Astronomy; three times a week they studied Herbology with the Hufflepuffs in the greenhouses; they even had a class taught by a ghost, History of Magic. The only exciting thing about that class was Professor Binns, the teacher, entering the classroom through the blackboard.

Professor McGonagall, as it turned out, taught Transfiguration. Harry reckoned he was right in thinking she wasn't someone you wanted to piss off. In fact, the first-year Gryffindors' first lesson with her began with a lecture.

"Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Howarts," she said. "Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned."

Then, to demonstrate Transfiguration, she turned her desk into a pig and back again. After that everyone was excited to begin, but she kind of rained on their parade by telling them they wouldn't be turning desks into farm animals for years. Instead, they took a lot of notes, then they were each given a match and were instructed to turn it into a needle. By the time the bell rang, only Hermione had managed to turn her match into a needle. Harry and Professor McGonagall both smiled at her.

Everyone was looking forward to Defense Against the Dark Arts, but it turns out that class was what Sirius probably would have called "pathetic". The classroom smelled like garlic, which was supposedly to ward off vampires. His turban smelled funny, and the Weasley twins said it was full of garlic too.

There was also a ton of homework, much more than Harry had ever gotten in primary school. Each teacher didn't seem to realize, when assigning homework, that his or her students actually had other classes with other teachers who also assigned homework, so the students would end up with a mountain of homework at the end of each day. If you didn't do it all at once, it was likely to hang over your head and haunt you. Luckily, Hermione was willing to help Harry with his homework, and encouraged him not to put it off.

Friday was an important day for Harry, Ron and Hermione. It was the day they would finally have Care of Magical Creatures class with Sirius—or "Professor Black".

"I'm so excited!" said Hermione. "We get to go to Sirius's class today!"

"I know, it's great," Harry agreed. "Have we got anything else?"

"Double Potions with the Slytherins," said Ron. "Snape's Head of Slytherin House. They say he always favors them—we'll be able to see if it's true."

It was a good thing Harry had Care of Magical Creatures to look forward to that afternoon, because Potions ended up being horrible. Judging from the way Snape acted in their very first lesson, Harry was sure Snape hated him, even though he couldn't remember wronging Snape in any way.

When Snape took roll call, he paused at Harry's name.

"Ah, yes," he said softly. "Harry Potter. Our new—celebrity."

Harry heard Malfoy and his lackeys laughing behind their hands. Snape didn't do anything except finish roll call and then stare at the class, his empty, dark eyes boring into everyone. His eyes reminded Harry of dark tunnels.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," Snape was saying. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses…I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death—if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

Harry thought this was a little unnecessary, especially after a speech during which Snape had basically fetishized his subject. Hermione was on the edge of her seat. Harry knew that she wasn't a dunderhead.

"Potter!" Snape said sharply. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

 _Powdered root of what to an infusion of what?_ Harry didn't know what Snape was talking about. Hermione raised her hand.

"I don't know, sir," said Harry.

"Tut, tut," Snape sneered. "Fame clearly isn't everything."

Snape totally ignored Hermione's hand.

"Let's try again," said Snape. "Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

Harry didn't even know what a bezoar _was_ , much less where he could locate one. Hermione was still raising her hand, as high as it could go without leaving her seat. Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle were laughing silently.

"I don't know, sir," Harry repeated.

"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?"

Harry kept looking into Snape's dark-tunnel eyes. Of course he had looked through his books! But unlike Hermione, he couldn't remember everything in them!

"What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

When Harry didn't answer him, Hermione stood up, her hand still in the air.

"Please, Professor," she began eagerly, "asphodel and wormwood together make the Draught of Living Death. Bezoars can be found in—"

"Silence!" Snape snapped at her. "Potter, ten points from Gryffindor for being a dunderhead—and Miss Granger, five points from Gryffindor for being a show-off. Unless I've called on you specifically, you keep your mouth shut."

Hermione put her hand down very quickly, her face very red; her eyes were swimming with tears. Harry felt that he had never been so angry in his life. Before he knew it, he was on his feet.

"You hurt her feelings on purpose!" Harry shouted. "What's she done to you?"

Silence. Then—

"Detention, Potter!" Snape barked. The entire room had been hanging in hushed silence; now the Slytherins burst into laughter. Hermione looked even more upset. Harry could feel his own face getting hot.

After things had finally died down, Snape told everyone to get into pairs and assigned them to make a potion to cure boils. At least Harry wasn't the only one he was criticizing; he was criticizing almost everyone except Malfoy. Snape seemed to like Malfoy. Harry felt his belief about Neville being a "why-does-everything-happen-to-me" person was confirmed when Neville melted Seamus's cauldron into a twisted blob. Neville was covered in boils.

"Idiot boy!" Snape cleared the faulty potion away with his wand. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?"

Neville whimpered. Boils were popping up all over his nose.

"Take him to the hospital wing," Snape spat at Seamus. Then he turned to Harry and Hermione, who had been working right next to Neville and Seamus.

"You—Potter—why didn't you tell him not to add the quills? Thought he'd make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That's another point you've lost for Gryffindor."

Hermione opened her mouth to say something, but as Snape turned away, Harry whispered, "No! I don't want you in detention, too."

One hour later, Harry was panting with effort as he climbed up the dungeon stairs. He had offered to help Hermione with her books, but he sort of wished he hadn't, because she had a _lot_ of books in her bag. As he puffed along, he wondered out loud why Snape hated him so much. Snape had given him a detention that consisted of cleaning the owl poop and regurgitated rodent skeletons off of the Owlery floor.

"I don't know why he would hate you," said Hermione.

"Snape hates everyone, except the Slytherins," said Ron. "He's always taking points off Fred and George."

…

After lunch, it was finally time for the Gryffindors to have their very first Care of Magical Creatures lesson. They were all hoping this would go better than Snape's lesson had. One thing they could guarantee was that there would be no cauldron explosions, although Harry predicted poor Neville would probably suffer an animal bite or sting, knowing his luck.

Sirius's lessons were to be held near the pumpkin patch, on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. (Harry was unpleasantly surprised to see that they were apparently having Care of Magical Creatures classes with the Slytherins.) At first, the class couldn't see whatever animal Sirius was going to show them. But when they got there, they saw what looked like a Jack Russell terrier on the ground, and—

"PUPPIES!" squealed Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil together. They ran as fast as they could towards the litter of puppies, who were snuggling against their mother.

"Welcome, class," said Sirius, picking up one of the wriggling puppies in his arms and laughing as it licked his face. "You can call me Sirius. Today we'll be studying Crups. Does anyone know what a Crup is?"

Hermione raised her hand, and Sirius called on her.

"Crups are wizard-bred dogs," Hermione said, "signified by the fact that they are loyal to wizards and ferocious towards Muggles. They are indistinguishable from Jack Russell terriers except for their forked tail, which is cut off at six to eight weeks of age."

"Good job," said Sirius. "Five points to Gryffindor for you."

"You earned back the points Snape took!" Harry whispered, and she beamed.

"You'd think they'd have been able to breed out the forked tail," said Sirius. "Anyway, the mother—her name is Earnest—her tail has been removed. But since her puppies—or, as they're sometimes called, Cruppies—are only a few weeks old, you'll notice they still have the tails. Does anyone want to hold one?"

Sirius sat cross-legged on the ground, and a couple of the Cruppies wandered towards him. One crawled into his lap. Harry noticed that the Cruppies' frantically wagging tails were indeed forked.

"I want to, I want to!" Lavender Brown shrieked.

"Me too!" added Parvati.

"Come on," Harry said to Hermione.

There were seven Cruppies in Earnest's litter, so seven students got to hold one at a time. Harry, Ron, Hermione, Lavender, and Parvati held the first five. Neville looked scared at first, but Sirius assured him that the Cruppy wouldn't bite, and eventually he was holding Cruppy number six. At long last, a Slytherin girl named Pansy Parkinson gave in and admitted that she wanted to hold the seventh.

"Do the Cruppies have names?" Hermione asked Sirius.

"None of them do yet," Sirius replied. "I was thinking our students could name them. Lavender, Parvati, Neville, Pansy, yours are the girls. Harry, Ron, Hermione, you've got the boys."

"I want to name my Cruppy Thornton, after Thornton Harkaway," Hermione announced, holding her Cruppy up in the air. He licked her face and wagged his forked tail. "He was a famous breeder of Crups."

"Mine will be Sweetheart," said Lavender.

"I'm going to name mine Precious, because she's so precious!" said Parvati.

"Mine will be Alice, after my mum," said Neville, a little shyly.

"Good idea," said Harry. "Mine will be James."

"I'm going to name mine after the great wizard Merlin," said Ron.

"And mine will be named after me," Pansy declared.

Thornton, Sweetheart, Precious, Alice, James, Merlin and Pansy had fun playing that afternoon. The students got to feed them treats, give them belly rubs, scratch them behind the ears, and chase them around the pumpkin patch. By the end of the lesson, they had learned about Crups and thoroughly enjoyed themselves. To their relief, Sirius didn't assign them any homework.

"I figure you've got enough homework," he said, winking at Harry. "Now, have a good weekend. Class dismissed."

The Cruppies walked back to Earnest, and most of the students walked back up to the school. Harry was going to go with them when Sirius called his name, so he turned back.

"Do you want to visit me in my teacher's quarters, now that class has let out?" Sirius asked.

"Sure," Harry said excitedly. "Can Hermione come too?"

"Absolutely." Sirius smiled at Hermione, who was standing right next to Harry. So after Earnest and her Cruppies had been put back into Hagrid's cabin, Sirius walked with Harry and Hermione back up to the school.

Sirius's teacher's headquarters were on the first floor. When Harry and Hermione walked in, they gasped. It was not much smaller than the flat Harry and Sirius shared back in London. The only difference was that there was only one bedroom instead of three. Back in the flat, they needed those for Sirius's room, Harry's room and the guest room. But since it was only Sirius in the teacher's quarters, he only needed the one bedroom. They sat on the couch in his drawing room.

"Thanks for having us over, Sirius," said Hermione, setting her book bag on the coffee table.

"Not a problem at all," Sirius replied. "Can I get either of you anything?"

"No thanks," they both said.

"All right." Sirius smiled and sat down. "So…how do you like Hogwarts so far?"

"It's been pretty good," Harry told him. "But we got into a bit of trouble in Potions."

"Potions?" Sirius frowned. "Doesn't Snape teach that now?"

"Yes, he does," Hermione said sadly, and she and Harry started to tell Sirius about what had happened in the lesson.

"And I knew he meant to hurt her feelings on purpose," Harry was saying. "So I stood up and I said, 'What's she done to you?' and then he told me my detention was to clean the floor of the Owlery."

Sirius had been listening, the look of disgust on his face deepening ever further as Harry and Hermione talked.

"I can't believe he did that," Sirius said finally. "Well, yeah, actually, I can. I'm sure he's just as terrible of a teacher as he is a person. So…pretty terrible."

"You know him?" said Harry.

"Yeah, we went to school together," Sirius said casually. "We didn't really like each other very much."

"Well, then can you tell me why he hates me?" Harry asked. "I don't know why he singled me out like that."

"It's not so much because he hates _you_ ," said Sirius, sounding tired all of a sudden. "I guess it's because he hated your dad. They were bitter enemies, you know. James was funny, popular, good at Quidditch, good at pretty much everything, and then Snape was just this greasy-haired oddball up to his eyes in the Dark Arts who knew more curses when he arrived at school than half the kids in seventh year. I expect he was jealous. And then, the fact that Snape and Lily used to be friends—"

"They _did?"_ said Hermione in shock. "Harry's mother and Snape?"

"Yeah, they did." Sirius nodded. "But as he meddled ever further with the Dark Arts, and hung around with a bunch of kids I'd bet my life became Death Eaters…well, as the years went by, she began to drift away. And one day he called her Mudblood."

"He didn't!" said Harry in horror, remembering when Malfoy called Hermione the same name.

"He did," said Sirius. "So as far as I can tell, they weren't friends anymore after that, because I noticed they stopped hanging out. And then in seventh year, she started dating James, and I guess Snape never really got over the girl he fancied going off with his worst enemy. I was always afraid he would crash the wedding or something, but he didn't."

"Oh no, please don't tell me Snape fancied my mother," said Harry.

"Too late," said Hermione.

"Anyway…" Sirius sighed. "If you want I can go to Dumbledore and try to get you out of that foul detention. It's really unfair."

"I don't know," said Harry uncertainly.

"Come on…don't you want to see the look on Snape's face when you worm your way out of detention?" Sirius insisted.

"Well, okay," Harry agreed reluctantly. "Thanks, Sirius."

"You're welcome," said Sirius. "By the way—did you two hear about the Gringotts scandal?"

"Yeah, we did," Harry told him. "Why do you ask?"

"I thought you might like to see the newspaper clipping," said Sirius, and Harry read the article that Sirius showed him.

 **GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN LATEST**

 **Investigations continue into the break-in at Gringotts on July 15, widely believed to be the work of Dark wizards or witches unknown.** **Gringotts goblins today insisted that nothing had been taken. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied the same day.** " **But we're not telling you what was in there, so keep your noses out if you know what's good for you," said a Gringotts spokesgoblin this afternoon.**

"Sirius," said Harry. "July 15! That was the day we were in Diagon Alley, remember? The attempted robbery could've been going on while we were at Gringotts!"

"It's possible." Sirius shrugged.

"Oh my God…" Harry just realized something. "That thing Hagrid was retrieving, the You-Know-What in Vault 713—that might be what the thieves were looking for! Hagrid might have emptied it just in time!"

"So where is it now?" Hermione asked eagerly.

"Like I said, if Hagrid was retrieving it, it's probably somewhere at Hogwarts," Sirius told her evenly. "But I can't say for sure. Anything else exciting happen this week, though?"

Harry and Hermione set to telling Sirius about the rest of their week at school and all their other classes. By the time they were finished with their conversation, it was 5:30, and dinner would be ready soon. Harry and Hermione said that they really must be going.

"We'll be back to visit soon, Sirius," Harry promised.

"Yes, very soon," Hermione added.

Harry was about to go with her, but Sirius held him back.

"What is it?" said Harry.

"I thought that was really admirable, how you stood up for Hermione in Snape's class," said Sirius quietly, putting his hand on Harry's shoulder.

"You—you did?"

"Of course." Sirius smiled. "Snape shouldn't be allowed to talk to Hermione like that, should he?"

"No," Harry said firmly. "She's my best friend. I would never let anybody talk to her like that."

"You're a good friend," said Sirius. "Hmm. Do you know what sort of flowers she likes?"

"Well, I know her favorite color is violet, so—"

"Say no more." One flick of the wand, and Sirius had a bouquet of violets. "Give these to Hermione. I'm sure she'll like them."

 **TO BE CONTINUED!**


	36. The Seeker

Harry and the other first-year Gryffindors had only Potions and Care of Magical Creatures with the Slytherins. That is, until their second week, when they noticed a flyer on the bulletin board in the Gryffindor common room. Flying lessons would be starting next Thursday, and they would be having lessons with the Slytherins.

When he saw the notice, Harry was extremely happy. Flying was his favorite thing to do. Even if he couldn't play on his House team until next year, he could still take lessons on the school brooms! And it was his chance to show up Malfoy, who was always blabbing about being a Quidditch star. Harry and Ron both agreed Malfoy was probably full of hot air.

Hermione wasn't as happy about flying as Harry and Ron were. All of the color left her face when she saw the notice.

"Oh no, oh no," she said. "They're going to _make_ me fly? But I'm Muggle-born, I don't know anything about Quidditch…and I'm scared of heights! I can't even go on an airplane without having a panic attack!"

"What's an airplane?" said Ron.

"Never mind it," said Harry. "Look, I'll help you, all right? We can borrow one of the school brooms, and you can ride on the back. That way you'll be less afraid on Thursday."

"I don't think we'll be allowed," Hermione told him nervously.

"Fred and George are both on the Quidditch team," said Ron. "One of them will definitely lend you a broom. You can probably go flying at night on the Quidditch pitch, while all the teachers are asleep."

…

Hermione was a little afraid to break rules, but she was even more afraid to go to flying class on Thursday unprepared. Harry told her flying wasn't something you could learn out of a book, so they would need to practice for real.

Fred and George Weasley had generously allowed Harry to borrow their brooms for Hermione's flying lessons. They weren't as nice of brooms as the Nimbus Harry had back home in London, but they were fine for practice, and probably better than most of the ancient school brooms. Harry climbed onto Fred's broom, and signaled for Hermione to climb on after him. She reluctantly did so, and Harry kicked off the ground.

"I don't like this, I _really_ don't like this," Hermione was saying. "I never should have agreed to it…Oh, God, what a way to go—"

"Hermione…we're only two feet up in the air," said Harry, who could barely breathe because she was clutching him so tightly around the waist.

"So?" Hermione's voice was almost a whimper.

"So it isn't that dangerous," Harry told her, trying to make his voice comforting. "They're probably going to make you fly higher than this in the lessons."

"Okay…I guess you can fly a little higher," Hermione said, though she sounded petrified, and she let out a scream as they did.

Harry would have liked to go higher, maybe miles high, up all the way to where the moon was shining so bright, but he stayed about six or seven feet into the air for now, flying around. After several minutes passed and nobody died, Hermione seemed to calm down a little, and Harry flew up to twelve feet, and flew a little faster.

Hermione seemed relieved when they finally reached the ground, but then Harry said it was her turn to fly.

"Me? Alone?" she cried.

"They're going to make you fly alone on Thursday," Harry reminded her. "I-I mean…I'm not going to make you do anything…but you did say you wanted to be prepared—"

"Give me that broom," said Hermione, her face flushed, and climbed onto Fred's broom.

"Okay, you have to sit down on it, and then kick off from the ground, like this," said Harry, demonstrating with George's broom and hovering in the air. Hermione copied Harry's motions on Fred's broom. Harry flew all the way up to the moon, with Hermione up three feet in the air down below, and then he dived (he was really good at dives) back to Hermione.

They flew for about thirty minutes, and Hermione proved herself capable of flying around on a broom in the air several feet high—they figured Madam Hooch wouldn't expect anyone to fly more than ten feet. Hermione seemed relieved to have both feet on the ground when their flying practice was finally finished up.

"Oh thank God," she said, hurriedly climbing off Fred's broom.

"Just do what you did tonight, and you'll be fine," Harry reassured her. "I guess you won't be playing for the House team anytime soon, but you've learned a lot."

"Thanks, Harry," said Hermione, kissing Harry lightly on the cheek, and turning to go back inside the castle. "Harry?"

"W-Whuh?" Hermione's kiss had caused Harry to temporarily lose his senses, so of course he hadn't heard what she was saying.

"Let's go back inside now," she told him, grabbing his hand, so that his whole body felt hot and his legs couldn't move. She had to almost drag him along for a few feet until he finally snapped out of it and started walking.

"It's—it's hot in here, isn't it?" said Harry woozily.

"No, not to me," said Hermione, looking slightly concerned. "You'd better get some sleep. I think all that flying might have tired you out."

…

Thursday afternoon couldn't come soon enough for Harry and Ron, and it couldn't come slow enough for Hermione. At half-past-three, all the first-year Gryffindors headed down to the Quidditch pitch for their first lesson—well, their first _official_ lesson, anyway, Harry whispered to Hermione. Despite being incredibly nervous, she smiled.

It was a cool, breezy day—perfect flying conditions. The Slytherins had beat the Gryffindors to the Quidditch pitch, and there were already twenty brooms on the ground for the students to ride on. Every Slytherin was standing near a broom. Almost all of them looked confident—Harry guessed it was because none of them had come from Muggle families and they had probably all practically grown up on broomsticks.

"Well, what are you all waiting for?" Madam Hooch barked. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up."

"Here we go," Hermione whispered to Harry. She stood near a broom, and he stood next to her. His broom was old and the twigs stuck out everywhere.

"Stick out your right hand over your broom, and say 'Up'!" Madam Hooch called, and they did.

Harry's broom jumped right into his hand, which was more or less what he had been expecting. Ron's broom almost made it, but seemed to lose heart halfway through. Hermione's broom just did a roll, and Neville's didn't move at all.

After that they learned to mount their brooms. Harry watched Hermione, who was trying to do it the way she had learned from Harry the other night. Madam Hooch walked along the rows of students, correcting them where they went wrong. She passed Harry, Ron, and even Hermione without comment; Hermione beamed at Harry, this time with her teeth—the first time she had done so in front of a class. Malfoy, however, was told that he had been flying wrong for years, and the trio had to try very hard to keep from laughing.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," said Madam Hooch. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle—three—two—"

Everyone gasped as Neville's broom took off before Madam Hooch blew her whistle.

"Come back, boy!" Madam Hooch yelled, but Neville's broom seemed to have a mind of its own. He rose a good twenty feet into the air, and then, frightened, he gasped, slid sideways off the broom, and fell onto the ground in a heap of robes as the broom flew out of sight. Harry heard a sickening crack, like a twig snapping.

"Broken wrist," Madam Hooch muttered, bending over Neville. "Come on, boy—it's all right, up you get."

Madam Hooch warned the class that anyone caught flying would be expelled, and took Neville off to the hospital wing. The minute they were gone, Malfoy started to laugh.

"Did you see his face, the great lump?"

"Shut up, Malfoy," said Parvati Patil.

"Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?" sneered Pansy Parkinson, the girl who had named the Cruppy after herself. "Never thought _you'd_ like fat little crybabies, Parvati."

"Look!" said Malfoy, snatching a small glass round ball out of the grass. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him."

Harry looked and saw that Malfoy had Neville's new Remembrall. When you forgot something, it glowed red. Whenever Neville held it, it glowed red.

"Give that here, Malfoy," said Harry quietly.

"I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find," Malfoy said nastily. "How about—up a tree?"

"Give it _here!"_ Harry repeated, but Malfoy still kept the Remembrall and took off. He flew all the way up to an oak tree and yelled, "Come and get it, Potter!"

Harry grabbed his broom.

"No!" said Hermione. "Harry, Madam Hooch told us not to move!"

For once in his life, Harry ignored Hermione and took off into the air. Within seconds he was level with Malfoy, who looked shocked. Hermione and a few other girls screamed. Ron cheered.

"Give it here," said Harry, "or I'll knock you off that broom!"

"Oh yeah?" Malfoy was trying to sound threatening, but he just looked worried now. The expression on his face alone clearly read, _How did you get so good at flying?_

Harry had to prove he wasn't all talk like Malfoy. When Malfoy didn't surrender the Remembrall, he flew right towards Malfoy, who dodged at the last second. By now, some people below were clapping.

"No Crabbe and Goyle up here to save your neck, Malfoy," Harry taunted.

"Catch it if you can, then!" Malfoy tossed the glass Remembrall into the air and sped to the ground. The ball rose slightly in the air, then succumbed to gravity's pull. Harry knew he had to catch it, or the Remembrall would be broken. It was a long shot, but dives were his specialty, after all…

Twenty feet, fifteen, ten, and Harry caught the Remembrall barely a foot from the ground; he pulled his broom straight and fell onto the grass, clutching the Remembrall.

"HARRY POTTER!"

 _Uh-oh_ , thought Harry. McGonagall was rushing towards them. He got to his feet.

" _Never_ —in all my time at Hogwarts—" Professor McGonagall looked almost as shocked as Malfoy had. "How _dare_ you—might have broken your neck—"

"It wasn't his fault, Professor," said Parvati Patil, coming to Harry's defense.

"Be quiet, Miss Patil," said Professor McGonagall.

"But Malfoy—" began Ron.

"That's _enough_ , Mr. Weasley. Potter, follow me, now."

Harry followed along behind Professor McGonagall as she marched Harry into the castle, his insides feeling frozen. He was going to be expelled, just like Madam Hooch had warned him. Professor McGonagall wasn't looking at him or speaking to him—he took that to mean she was overwhelmed by fury. Her strides were so fast that he was jogging to keep up. He thought of Sirius, how disappointed he would be. Would Sirius have to leave Hogwarts to look after Harry back in London? Or maybe Harry would be sent back to the Dursleys…Harry just knew Dumbledore would probably love any excuse to send him back to the Dursleys, as he had fought so adamantly for it…and, after all, where could Professor McGonagall possibly be taking him, if not Dumbledore's office?

But no. They stopped outside a classroom. Professor McGonagall looked inside and asked Professor Flitwick if she could borrow "Wood".

For a moment Harry thought Wood was a cane Professor McGonagall was going to use on him—he wasn't sure if corporal punishment was allowed at Hogwarts, but then, there was a whole Forbidden Corridor that would kill you if you entered it, so wasn't anything possible in this place? As it turned out, though, that Wood was a fifth-year student.

"Follow me, you two," Professor McGonagall told them, and they followed her. Wood was looking curiously at Harry.

The three of them entered a classroom containing Peeves, but Professor McGonagall got him out in a hurry. Then, she addressed the students sitting in front of her.

"Potter, this is Oliver Wood," she said quickly. "Wood—I've found you a Seeker."

"Are you serious, Professor?" Wood asked delightedly.

"As a shark attack," Professor McGonagall told him. "Potter is clearly a natural. Was that your first time on a broomstick, Potter?"

"No," said Harry nervously. "I-I flew a little with Professor Black over summer vacation, too."

"You flew a little!" Professor McGonagall still looked impressed. "It looked like you'd been flying for years. Wood, Potter caught that thing in his hand after a fifty-foot dive. Didn't even scratch himself. Charlie Weasley couldn't have done it."

"Ever seen a game of Quidditch, Potter?" Wood asked, looking excited.

"Wood's captain of the Gryffindor team," said Professor McGonagall.

"I've practiced a bit, like I said, but I've never seen a game," Harry told Wood. "I'd like to, though."

"He's just the build for a Seeker, too," said Wood. "Light—speedy—we'll have to get him a decent broom, Professor—"

"I've already got a broom back home," Harry told him hurriedly. "I've got a Nimbus Two Thousand."

"Excellent!" Wood beamed. "That's the best model they make!"

"I shall speak to Professor Dumbledore and see if we can't bend the first-year rule," Professor McGonagall said. "Heaven knows, we need a better team than last year. _Flattened_ in that last match by Slytherin, I couldn't look Severus Snape in the face for weeks…"

"O-Okay," Harry said, amazed to find that he had avoided being punished a second time.

"I want to hear you're training hard, Potter, or I may change my mind," Professor McGonagall said sternly, but then she smiled. "Your father would have been proud. He was an excellent Quidditch player himself."

…

"Sirius! Sirius, open up!"

Harry was banging on the door to Sirius's teacher's quarters. It was a long time before Sirius opened the door. His hair was tousled and he was rubbing his eyes.

"What?" he grouched.

"Oh, sorry, did I wake you up?" said Harry. Without waiting for a response, he barreled on: "You'll never believe what happened today at my flying lessons, Sirius!"

"What?" Sirius collapsed onto the couch and leaned back, shutting his eyes again.

"When Professor McGonagall saw me flying, she volunteered me as Seeker for the Gryffindor Quidditch team!"

Sirius's head snapped right up.

"What?!" he said for the third time.

Harry explained the whole story, starting with Malfoy snatching the Remembrall and Harry catching it and then he talked about how McGonagall had introduced him to Wood.

"But that makes you the youngest Seeker in a century!" Sirius remarked.

"I know it," Harry said proudly. "Oliver Wood, you know, the captain—he told me so."

"Well, if it's all right with McGonagall, I can probably get your Nimbus shipped in from London somehow," Sirius offered. "Imagine the look on Draco Malfoy's face as it gets delivered to you at breakfast."

"You were right about me not mixing with him," Harry told Sirius. "Is his father as bad as he is?"

"Lucius Malfoy is even worse," Sirius replied. "I had to meet him a couple of times, when he was dating Narcissa. She always brought him along to our foul family photo shoots. Besides, he was a Death Eater. You can't come back from that."

Sirius said this lightly, but Harry knew he meant it. Even after all these years, Sirius hated nothing more than Death Eaters. Even Sirius's own brother had been a Death Eater, Harry remembered. In his godfather's eyes, maybe joining the Dark Side was unforgivable, even if it was your own flesh and blood.


	37. Canine Fury

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: teachergirl, I've private-messaged you and you haven't answered back, so I'm going to ask you once more, this time right here in the story, where you can see it. We are 37 chapters in now, and you haven't left a single review with positive feedback. So I ask you, why are you wasting your time, exactly? Do you really have nothing better to do than read THIRTY-SEVEN CHAPTERS' WORTH of a story you don't like? If I don't like a story, I just don't read it. Maybe you should do that. Or, I don't know, actually write your** _ **own**_ **story. Anything but bore yourself with a story you obviously hate. And in no way am I a thief. I have not plagiarized one bit; this is an AU of first year, so some of the plot points are going to be the same, some aren't. The only time I've used the "exact words" from the book is certain dialogue bits. That's it. And everything I've written in that isn't mine is underlined. I have my own "spin" on things as well. I told you, you'll see. Or you won't, if you take my advice and set your sights elsewhere. I'm not going to change the storyline or stop writing just because you want me to, so whatever you're trying to do, give it up. It's not working.**

 **Now for chapter 37.**

…

 **LATER THAT DAY…**

"What do you mean, you want me to show you how to duel?"

Sirius was frowning slightly, arms crossed, eyebrows raised. Harry was in his teacher's quarters for the second time that day, this time with Ron in tow. The two of them had headed there immediately after dinner, mainly because of what had happened during dinner.

"That's right," said Ron.

"But why?"

"Quirrell's Defense Against the Dark Arts classes are pathetic," said Harry. "We wanted to be taught by someone who actually knows this stuff."

"And you could've done it, if Quirrell hadn't gotten the job first," Ron added.

The real reason Harry and Ron wanted these lessons was because they actually were going to be dueling someone, but they weren't going to tell Sirius that. Even though he was Harry's godfather, and someone who hated the challenger's entire family, he was still a teacher, and there was no guarantee he would permit them to do such a thing. Harry knew Sirius could magically block him from going places, and he didn't want to be locked in Gryffindor tower all night for his "safety".

Malfoy, enraged that Harry had escaped punishment, had been the one to challenge him to a duel. It was supposed to be in the trophy room at midnight. Harry had asked Hermione to be his second, but she had disapproved, warning him that he would get caught and he would lose points for Gryffindor and he had already broken a school rule today, so did he _really_ want to break another? Harry thought she had a point, but he couldn't back down from Malfoy's challenge, so Ron had agreed to be his second instead—and Hermione would be asleep by midnight anyway. She would never have to know.

"Well, you can't deny that," said Sirius. "But you know…you're right. With teachers like Quirrell, it's not just you two who aren't given proper instruction. It's everyone."

"He's right, you know," said Ron.

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "His classes are totally lame."

"How's this?" Sirius smiled and put his hands in his pockets. "I can be your unofficial Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. It can be, like, a club or something. Every weekend. We can have classes in the Gryffindor common room, for all Gryffindors who want to attend."

"Haven't you got papers to grade or anything?" Harry asked.

"I hardly ever assign homework because it's less work for me _and_ you lot," Sirius replied. "When I'm not teaching, I haven't got anything to do."

"Well, all right then," said Harry. "But could we have the first lesson today?"

"Fine," said Sirius. "What do you want to know?"

"Offensive and defensive magic!" said Ron. "Quirrell mentioned something about the Curse of the Bogies—you could teach us how to do that."

"Nah, that's just a stupid curse where you give someone a cold," Sirius told him. "Anyway, you might have trouble working some of these because you're only starting out when it comes to magic. How about today I teach you the Impediment Jinx? And then we could practice the Leg-Locker Curse."

"Oh yeah, that one," said Harry. "Hermione used it on Malfoy and his cronies on the train when they had Ron and me in headlocks."

"That just proves my point—you never know when you'll need these skills." Sirius took his wand out of his pocket and rolled up his sleeves. "Now for my first lesson as Unofficial DADA teacher. When somebody is running at you, this jinx causes them to stumble. I need a volunteer."

"I'll do it," said Harry, and he started to run towards Sirius, but Sirius shouted, _"Impedimenta!"_ and it was as if someone had placed an invisible barrier in front of his feet for a minute. That was what happened to Ron, too. They tried it on Sirius, and on each other. At first it didn't work, but after about a half an hour they had made some progress. Since it was 9:30, and curfew was at 10:00, they decided to spend the rest of class practicing the Leg-Locker Curse.

Harry seemed to have a special knack for Defense Against the Dark Arts. He did get Ron more times than Ron got him. But then, Ron probably wouldn't have to take over for Harry in the duel with Malfoy tonight.

When it was finally 10:00, Sirius wrote them a teacher's note in case they were caught on their way back to Gryffindor tower, and then quickly scrawled out a note.

"What's that for?" Ron asked.

"Pin it up on the Gryffindor notice board," Sirius explained. "It's about my Defense classes thing. We'll see if anybody else is interested."

…

"Half-past eleven," said Ron. "We'd better go."

They were in their dorm room, and they had been waiting until midnight. Harry had told Hermione he wouldn't rise to Malfoy's bait, but she would be in the girls' dorms while they were having the duel, and the next morning, Harry could just pretend nothing had ever happened. So he and Ron put on their bathrobes and headed downstairs. The common room was still and silent, but just as they reached the portrait hole—

"So you _are_ going to go!"

Harry's stomach jumped, and so did he. Hermione had stayed up, waiting for them. She was wearing a pink bathrobe and holding a lantern.

"Hermione!" said Harry in shock.

"I should have told Sirius." Hermione frowned. "He wouldn't have let you do this."

Ron scowled at her. "Why does it matter so much to you anyway?"

"Because it's dangerous!" Hermione insisted, looking Harry directly in the eyes. "You'll get caught for sure!"

"This is my chance to beat him!" Harry told her, and Ron started walking again. Harry followed him, and so did Hermione.

"Don't you _care_ about Gryffindor?" she hissed.  "Do you _only_ care about yourselves? _I_ don't want Slytherin to win the house cup, and you'll lose all the points I got from Professor McGonagall for knowing about Switching Spells."

"It'll be great to wipe that sneer off Malfoy's face, won't it?" said Ron excitedly.

"Malfoy will be the one sneering when you're on the train ride home tomorrow!" said Hermione, as the portrait slammed shut behind the three of them.

"Look, if you're not going to help, just go back to bed!" Ron snapped at her.

"Maybe I will!" said Hermione, but when she turned around, it was too late—the Fat Lady had left her frame, and the three of them were shut out. Hermione's expression of annoyance soon turned to panic. "Now what am I going to do?"

"Well, Hermione, really…" Harry shrugged. "We are best friends, aren't we? You're welcome to come along. When Malfoy sees you, he'll be running scared. We might not even have to duel."

"Maybe he'll remember what you did on the train!" Ron added, brightening a little.

"I suppose you could use my help," said Hermione, looking nervous. "Still, if we're caught up after curfew—"

"Shh!" Harry held up a hand to quiet her. "I heard something."

"Mrs. Norris?" said Ron.

"No, it's Neville." Hermione pointed downwards. Neville was asleep on the ground next to the portrait hole, but he woke up when he saw the trio approaching.

"Thank goodness you found me!" Neville gasped. "I've been out here for hours, I couldn't remember the new password to get in to bed."

"Keep your voice down, Neville," Hermione told him. "The password's 'pig snout' but it won't help you now, the Fat Lady's gone off somewhere."

"How's your arm?" Harry asked.

"Fine." Neville held out his arm. "Madam Pomfrey mended it in about a minute."

"Good," said Harry. "Well, look, Neville, we've got to be somewhere, we'll see you later—"

"Don't leave me!" Neville cried, springing up. "I don't want to stay here alone, the Bloody Baron's been past twice already."

"We're going to meet Malfoy for a duel," Harry told him. "Are you sure you want to do that?"

"Well…I could watch you," said Neville, looking afraid.

"Just don't get us caught," Harry told him, then set off, the other three following. They found a staircase to the third floor, then crept towards the trophy room. Harry kept reminding himself of what Sirius had taught him and Ron in their lesson. Malfoy and Crabbe (his second) weren't there yet. Several minutes passed.

"He's late," said Ron. "Maybe he's chickened out."

And that was when they heard Filch, talking to his cat, Mrs. Norris.

"Sniff around, my sweet, they might be lurking in a corner."

Harry beckoned for the others to follow him, and they fled the trophy room just as Filch came in.

"They're in here somewhere," he muttered, "probably hiding."

The four students tiptoed down the hall, passing many suits of armor. Filch was getting nearer and nearer—then Neville panicked and ran, but of course he tripped and grabbed Ron around the waist to catch his fall, and they both crashed into a suit of armor.

"RUN!" Harry shouted. They did, past all the suits of armor, down corridor after corridor. Harry tore through a tapestry, which led into a hidden passageway, and when they had ran all along it, they saw that they were somewhere near their Charms classroom—nowhere near the trophy room.

"I think we've lost him." Harry was gasping for breath, leaning against the wall and wiping his forehead. Neville was bent double, wheezing.

"I— _told_ —you." Hermione was clutching a stitch in her chest. "I—told—you."

"We've got to get back to Gryffindor tower, as quickly as possible," Ron told them all.

"Malfoy tricked you, Harry," said Hermione. "You realize that, don't you? He was never going to meet you—Filch knew someone was going to be in the trophy room, Malfoy must have tipped him off."

"You're probably right," Harry told her, feeling a little embarrassed. "Let's go."

Unfortunately, that was when they met Peeves, who betrayed their location all over again. They took off running once more, Filch on their tail, but then they found themselves at a dead end, right in front of a locked door. Filch's footsteps were getting nearer and nearer.

"This is it!" Ron pushed at the door, but it wouldn't open. "We're done for! This is the end!"

"Not quite!" Hermione tapped the lock on the door. _"Alohamora!"_

The door opened immediately. They hurried in, slammed the door, and listened to what was going on outside. Filch was trying to get answers out of Peeves, but Peeves wasn't being cooperative. Filch and Peeves both soon left.

"Filch thinks this door is locked," Harry told the others. "I think we'll be okay—get _off_ , Neville! _What?"_

Neville had been pulling on Harry's bathrobe sleeve for a full minute now, so Harry turned around and realized that they weren't in a room—they were in the Forbidden Corridor on the third floor. And now Dumbledore's warning about dying a painful death made more sense—well, as much sense as a statement like that could ever make in a school. There was a massive, deadly three-headed dog there, and the only reason it hadn't killed them was because their appearance was unexpected. The dog started to growl.

SLAM! Harry grabbed the doorknob, shut the door behind them and they all sprinted away from the dog, not even thinking about Filch anymore. They didn't even stop to rest until they reached the Gryffindor portrait hole on the seventh floor. They gave the Fat Lady the password, entered, and collapsed into armchairs.

"What do they think they're doing, keeping a thing like that locked up in a school?" asked Ron. "If any dog needs exercise, that one does."

"It was standing on a trapdoor," Hermione told them, sounding annoyed beyond belief. "It's obviously there to guard something."

"Guarding something…?" Harry thought for a moment and then it came to him. "Hey—I think I found out where Hagrid hid that You-Know-What from Vault 713! Wait till we tell Sirius, Hermione! Her…Hermione?"

Harry turned around slowly in his armchair. Hermione was standing up, her arms crossed. The expression on her face suddenly reminded him of Professor McGonagall.

"You and your little duel could have gotten us all _killed_ , Harry," she said quietly, her tone dangerous. "Or worse, _expelled_."

"Wait a minute," said Ron, "I'd take expulsion over—"

"Let me finish!" Hermione snapped at him. "I can't believe you two! First you foolishly take Malfoy's bait, then you _lie_ to me about it, then you convince me to come along and then we end up in the Forbidden Corridor with that horrible monster that could have eaten us all! I thought we were best friends, Harry!"

"We—we _are_ best friends!" Harry's heart was thumping wildly.

"Well maybe you should start acting like it!" Hermione snarled. "Is that how you treat a friend?!"

"Hey, he didn't do it on _purpose_ , you know!" Ron told her angrily.

"Nevertheless, if it weren't for you two and your rule-breaking, this wouldn't have possibly been our last day on Earth!" Hermione said back. "I-I'm just sick of it! Harry—when you start caring about Gryffindor, when you start caring about the rules, when you start caring about _me_ —then we'll talk."

Without another word, Hermione turned and headed furiously up to the girls' dorms.

"Wow," Neville squeaked. "She could give my gran a run for her money."

Harry simply stared after her, unable to think of a single thing to say.


	38. Heartbreak

"Come on," said Ron, as Harry stared down at his breakfast. "Eat something."

"I'm not hungry," Harry mumbled. Indeed, his stomach seemed to have twisted itself into a knot.

"She was too bossy anyway. Forget her," Ron insisted, looking quickly over at Hermione, who was on the other side of the table at least two feet away, avoiding Harry's eyes and talking to Ron's brother Percy instead. They hadn't walked down to breakfast together as usual; in fact, they hadn't spoken since last night. Harry had only known Hermione for a few months, but without her, his life felt strangely empty.

"I _can't_ forget her," Harry told Ron in a voice a little higher than usual, trying to block the awful feeling of crying. It took literally all of his self-control to keep his tears from reaching his eyes. Ron was shooting nasty glares in Hermione's direction when many post owls streamed into the Great Hall, as usual.

"Look! The mail's here!" Ron yelled, clearly thankful for something that might distract Harry.

"So what?" Harry mumbled, but that was when six screech owls fluttered to the Gryffindor table and dropped a long, thin package right in front of Harry. He recognized it instantly as his broomstick, and his heart rose just a little. Hedwig turned up too, and dropped a note on top of the parcel. Harry recognized it as Sirius's handwriting.

 _Harry—_

 _This is your Nimbus Two Thousand, here from London. Professor McGonagall says your training starts in one week. I'm still extremely proud of you._

 _Sirius_

Harry should have been happy, but upon reading the note, he really did feel tears coming to his eyes this time. He just stared at the note, reading the last line over and over again: _I'm still extremely proud of you_.Ron, who had no shattered heart, was chomping on bacon and looking at Harry in disbelief.

"What is _up_ with you?" he demanded.

"Nothing." Harry put his face in his hands.

"You don't want Hermione to see you upset, do you?" Ron hissed. "Just act like it's not bothering you!"

"How can I do that?"

"Look—forget this!" Ron took Harry's hands off his face, pulled him up, and, grabbing the parcel, dragged him over to the Slytherin table. "I've got something that's _bound_ to cheer you up!"

"Like what?" Harry whispered. "Be quiet, why don't you? We're right near the Slytherins!"

"Exactly," Ron told him. "Now we can get back at Malfoy for nearly getting us killed last night."

They walked over to where Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle were sitting.

"Hmm," said Ron loudly. "I wonder what could be in that package?"

Malfoy had already noticed the package, along with the rest of the school, so his white-blonde head swiveled around to look at them. He clambered out of his seat and marched over to Harry and Ron, his lackeys close behind.

"I know what's in that package," Malfoy said furiously. "It's a broomstick. You'll be in for it this time, Potter, first years aren't allowed them."

"It's not any old broomstick," said Ron, nudging Harry and grinning, obviously hoping Harry would grin too, or at least show some faint sign of happiness. "It's a Nimbus Two Thousand. What did you say you've got at home, Malfoy, a Comet Two Sixty? Comets look flashy, but they're not in the same league as the Nimbus."

Malfoy looked like he was about to explode, but instead he tattled to the next teacher he saw, who happened to be Sirius.

"Sirius! Sirius! Potter's got a broom!" Malfoy squawked.

"That's _Professor Black_ to you, Malfoy," Sirius snapped, his eyes narrowing in dislike.

"You said in class we could call you Sirius," Malfoy protested.

"Yeah, well, not today," Sirius told him, arms crossed. "And didn't that father of yours ever teach you that it's rude to talk back to an adult?"

"My parents have told me all about you," said Malfoy, his normally-pale face turning pink. "You're my mother's cousin—and she says you betrayed the proper pureblood order."

"Five points from Slytherin, and if I ever hear you talking about that pureblood rubbish again, it will be fifty!" Sirius barked.

"Come on now, Sirius," said Ron, beaming. "It's thanks to Malfoy here that Harry has this broom at all."

"Hmm…you may be right," Sirius replied. "So, now, what model is it?"

"Why, it's a _Nimbus Two Thousand_ ," Ron repeated, so everyone could hear. "Harry's got a NIMBUS TWO THOUSAND."

Now everyone was turning to look. Malfoy glared at the three of them for a moment, then stalked back to the Slytherin table. Harry heard some Slytherins ask Malfoy if Harry's broom was really a Nimbus Two Thousand.

"Looking forward to seeing you play, Harry," Sirius said, clapping Harry on the shoulder, then striding back up to the High Table to finish breakfast.

"Thanks," said Harry, smiling at Ron. "I needed that. After all, you're right—if it weren't for Malfoy and the Remembrall, I wouldn't be on the team at all."

"So I suppose you think that's a reward for breaking rules?"

They turned around. It was Hermione, looking almost as angry as Malfoy.

"Don't start speaking to us again," Ron told her. "The silent treatment is doing us so much good."

"Cut it out, mate," Harry mumbled. He knew Ron was angry with Hermione on his behalf, but his heart had already sunken again.

"You two! Someday your rule-breaking will catch up with you, and you'll have something to think about on the train ride home!" Hermione snapped. Before either Harry or Ron could say anything back, she had turned on her heel and left.

"OY!" Ron yelled after her, his ears red as Hermione's face, but she didn't turn back.

…

It was hard for Harry to keep his mind on school that day. He barely noticed when Snape paused to sneer at his overly runny Acne-Curing Draught, and when they got to Care of Magical Creatures, the sweetness of the animals they were studying (Clabberts, a sort of cross between a monkey and a frog) was almost too much for him to take.

When class was dismissed for the day, Sirius didn't give them any homework (he rarely did). Hermione rushed past Harry and Ron without looking at them. Harry, hanging his head low, was about to follow Ron into the castle when he felt someone's hand on his shoulder.

"Hey," said Sirius. "You all right?"

"I'm fine," Harry mumbled, sticking his hands in the pockets of his robes.

"Don't be silly." Sirius put his arm around Harry. "What's the problem?"

"It's nothing," Harry insisted, but his voice broke.

"Come on," Sirius told him. "Thanks to Professor Kettleburn and his missing limbs, my teacher's quarters are on the first floor."

Harry shook his head. There was no way he was going to tell Sirius what happened with their discovery of the three-headed dog. He was _so_ not in the mood for a lecture right now—besides, he didn't need Sirius to tell him last night could have gotten them killed, or worse, expelled. Hermione had already done that.

"You don't have to _talk_ about it," Sirius told him. "Just visit with me for a bit."

Professor Kettleburn had indeed requested a room on the ground floor, since it was harder to go up and down stairs when you didn't have all your arms and legs. So it wasn't long before Sirius and Harry reached the teacher's quarters that now belonged to Sirius.

When they got inside, Harry just sat numbly on the couch, Sirius sitting next to him. It was a long time before either of them spoke.

"I'm okay," said Harry, in a voice that sounded nothing like his own.

"I know you're not," Sirius said back, but he didn't say anything else. Harry knew his godfather didn't like to pry. But sometimes he wished he would.

"Really, I'm fine," Harry repeated.

"If you say so." Sirius sighed, then gestured to the blank wall in front of them. "I'm sorry we can't watch TV or anything. There's too much magic in the air, you know…"

"T-TV?"

Suddenly Harry's memories were flooded with images of the hours he had spent with Hermione on the phone, watching cheesy soap operas and commenting on how stupid they were…how he'd racked up the phone bill so high in just a month, because he loved hearing her voice on the other end…how he especially loved it when she said his name.

But all those times were over now.

Without warning, something broke free and finally Harry found he had started to cry. One moment later Sirius had scooped him up and was trying to console him; Harry was staining the front of Sirius's steely-gray robes with tears. Sirius let Harry cry himself into silence, then spoke.

"Did something go wrong between you and Hermione?" he asked softly.

Harry just nodded mutely, too distraught to ask how on Earth Sirius knew this.

"Oh, I'm sorry, mate," Sirius said sadly. "I was hoping you wouldn't have to go through this so soon."

"It's all over," Harry told him, wiping his nose on his sleeve. "She was so great. I was just glad she _existed_ —and now it's all over."

"I could make you some of Euphemia's famous hot chocolate," Sirius offered tentatively. "How does that sound?"

All that did was remind Harry of the night Hermione had visited the flat and he had only one can of soda so he made her a glass of water, and even used a Hover Charm to give it to her. And then she had leaned her head on his shoulder and they had fallen asleep watching _North to Alaska_ , which Harry remembered none of, because he had been focused too much on the wonderful, unique, brilliant girl watching the movie with him. Harry thought he had cried himself all out, but as this memory resurfaced, he was bawling his eyes out once more.

"Okay, no," Sirius muttered.

"Why, Sirius?" Harry cried. _"Why_ did it have to happen?!"

"Women will hurt you sometimes, bad," Sirius said quietly. "I know it's hard. But if there's anything I can do, anything at _all_ —"

"I want Hermione back!" Harry wailed, knowing full-well that he was a mess, but he didn't care.

"Oh, Harry," said Sirius miserably, rubbing Harry's back. "I wish I could bring her back. I wish I could take your pain away from you—I wish I could feel it for you. But I can't. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

"Well, I am too!"

"People will tell you a lot of things, like that this will help you grow as a person, or that there are plenty of fish in the sea," Sirius said. "But nobody wants to hear that garbage. Love sucks. Life sucks. Cry it out."

It was truly horrible. Every time one beautiful memory was shoved away, a different one would surface, and the realization that _he and Hermione were through_ would not leave Harry's mind. So he cried until the world around him turned red. He lost track of time; he was like a butterbeer bottle that had suddenly been uncorked.

When Harry was finally sure his eyes were not physically capable of producing any more tears, he leaned on Sirius's shoulder and stared at the wall.

"D'you want me to send for dinner?" Sirius asked finally. "I expect you don't feel like going to the Great Hall tonight."

Harry nodded. Sirius rang a little bell on the nightstand, and moments later, a house-elf Apparated into the teacher's quarters.

"How did you hear that from the kitchens?" Harry was curious in spite of himself.

"Ah, 'tis a magical bell, sir," the house-elf replied in a squeaky voice. "Whenever a teacher rings one, another rings in the kitchen, and the house-elves, they knows which teacher to go to, sir."

"Could you fetch us some dinner, please?" Sirius asked. "We can have whatever Harry wants."

Harry asked the house-elf for pizza, along with plenty of treacle tart, and then he told Sirius he would be okay with some of his grandmother's hot chocolate after all. As they sat there, finishing off the rest of the treacle tart and drinking hot chocolate, Harry realized again how thankful he was for his godfather.

"Thanks, Sirius," he said quietly.

"Don't mention it, Prongslet," Sirius said, giving Harry another hug, and Harry was glad to hear the nickname used again.

…

 **Will everything turn out okay? Can Harry and Hermione possibly set things right? Find out in the next installment of** _ **Harry Potter and the Dogfather**_ **, coming soon.**


	39. Sirius's Halloween Party

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** **HpFanFicLoverXoX, thank you for your kind words! I'm not sure why there wasn't an option to message you, but I still wanted to thank you! And I'm glad you think I have a future in writing, as I hope to be an author someday. There are plenty of surprises down the road in this story so hang tight!**

 **Now for Chapter 39.**

Harry was glad Quidditch season (along with his training) began a week later, because flying was pretty much the only thing that distracted him from his falling-out with Hermione. Quidditch, along with the support of Ron and Sirius, was the only thing keeping Harry's life from turning into a complete depression-addled haze.

It had been almost two weeks since the fight on Thursday morning, which happened to be Halloween. Harry and Ron walked to Charms without Hermione, and when they got there, Professor Flitwick announced that they would be making objects fly. Harry's heart fell at a sudden memory.

" _Right now. The bigger and heavier the object, the harder it is to make it levitate," said Hermione, grabbing a ballpoint pen from Harry's desk. "So we should start with something small and light, like this pen. Do it like this—Wingardium Leviosa!"_

 _The pen floated up into the air. Hermione let it hover for a moment, then let it down._

" _Wingardium Leviosa!" said Harry, waving his wand. The pen twitched slightly._

" _See, it's not so much of a wave, more of a swish-and-flick," said Hermione, demonstrating with her wand. "Swish and flick."_

" _Swish and flick," said Harry, trying to imitate her movements. He was feeling more idiotic by the moment. "Wingardium Leviosa. Wingardium Leviosa!"_

 _Still, the pen just gave a feeble sort of jump._

" _Well, that's something," said Hermione._

Harry remembered how he had felt at first that he could never do the Hover Charm, but he and Hermione had worked through it until he'd been able to levitate his pillow, and Sirius had walked into the room just as Hermione had been trying to levitate the bed. She would have been able to do it, too, Harry thought.

Professor Flitwick put them into pairs. Harry was afraid he would be partnered with Hermione, but no, he got Seamus Finnigan and Flitwick partnered Ron with Hermione. They both seemed less than happy about this. Hermione was just as angry with Ron as she was with Harry, and as for Ron, he was furious with Hermione for breaking Harry's heart, and never missed an opportunity to make scathing comments about her or send scorching looks in her direction.

If he had been at his best, Harry thought, he might have been able to make the feather in front of him hover. After all, he had levitated a pillow, and that was just filled with many feathers. But today he was too busy watching Ron and Hermione.

" _Wingardium Leviosa!"_ shouted Ron, waving his arms all around. Hermione glared at him.

"You're saying it wrong," she told him harshly. "It's Win- _gar_ -dium Levi- _o_ -sa, make the 'gar' nice and long."

"You do it, then, if you're so clever."

Hermione did the swish-and-flick, said the incantation, and her and Ron's feather floated four feet above their heads. Professor Flitwick clapped.

"Oh, well done!" he cried. "Everyone see here, Miss Granger's done it!"

"Wow," said Seamus Finnigan next to Harry.

"Has anyone else succeeded?" squeaked Professor Flitwick. "How about you, Mr. Potter?"

It had been awhile since Harry had levitated anything. Still…he couldn't just tell Professor Flitwick he couldn't do it…

"I'll do it instead," Seamus Finnigan offered.

"No! That's okay," said Harry. Seamus Finnigan had been known to set several things on fire by accident during class, and the last thing Harry needed was to have his eyebrows scorched off because he couldn't do a basic Hover Charm. But he felt Hermione's eyes on him, making him extremely nervous; his voice cracked horribly on the "gar" part and the feather barely twitched.

Hermione was watching him with an open mouth now; he cleared his throat and was about to try again but he felt his eyes burning and then he realized Ron was right. The _worst_ thing to do would be to let Hermione know this was getting to him, and she would definitely know now. But he could not stand it, trying and failing to perform the spell she had taught him, while she looked on...Harry kept clearing his throat but it made no difference, and then—

"Oh no, he's having another coughing fit," Harry heard someone saying. "I thought you were over your cold, Harry."

It was Ron; he pulled Harry up by the neck of his robes, then slung Harry's arm over his shoulders.

"I'd better get him to the hospital wing, Professor Flitwick." Ron was looking more serious than Harry had ever seen him. "I think he needs a Pepper-Up Potion."

"Very well then, Mr. Weasley," Professor Flitwick said, looking bewildered, and even though Harry's legs felt like lead, Ron hauled him out of the room. Ron didn't speak or let go of Harry until they had rounded the corner.

"What was _that_ all about?" Ron demanded.

"I-I don't know," Harry said truthfully, his voice still shaky.

"Look. _You_ need to _forget_ about _her!"_ Ron snarled. "She's making you miserable! Do you want to be with a girl who makes you feel like that?"

"But she didn't used to make me feel like that," Harry told him weakly, using his thumb to wipe a stray tear out of his eye. "Things used to be great! She used to make me feel this way I'd never felt before and—"

"Ugghhh!" Ron groaned in disgust. "Come _on_ , Harry! Maybe Madam Pomfrey can give you a Calming Draught."

Harry was still fighting back tears by the time Ron got him to the hospital wing. It was a good thing Madam Pomfrey didn't ask too many questions, because Harry didn't know what he would have said if she had asked him why or how he had gotten so worked up. He didn't even know himself. Ron, still looking exasperated, went back to Charms, and Harry took the potion Madam Pomfrey gave him. Then she forced him to stay in bed.

Sirius came to visit during lunchtime. In his enchanted pockets he had a bunch of food, including Harry's favorite dessert, treacle tart.

"How are you, Harry?" he asked kindly, sitting down on the edge of Harry's bed and setting the containers of food on the bed.

"Lousy," said Harry, grabbing a big slice of treacle tart and biting into it like it was a slice of pizza. Sirius didn't lecture him for not using a fork, nor did he insist that Harry eat some "real food" before he ate any dessert.

"Listen, I know you might not be in the mood, but I'm holding a Halloween party tonight down in the dungeons for everyone in Gryffindor, starting about six," Sirius told him. "Going to the party might cheer you up. Besides, Ron said he had a pirate costume and his mother made you a matching pirate costume too."

"No, I'll go," Harry said listlessly. "Ron is right. Just because Hermione and I aren't friends anymore doesn't mean I shouldn't enjoy myself…"

Sirius looked a little perplexed. "Did you say you two aren't _friends_ anymore?"

"Yeah," Harry said. "Didn't you already know that?"

"Well, actually, I thought—eh, never mind." Sirius cleared his throat. "Are you saying all that happened was you two had an argument?"

Harry nodded.

"C'mere, kid." Sirius beckoned for Harry to sit next to him, and so he did; Sirius put his arm around him and sighed. "Listen. _All_ friends have arguments sometimes. Even me and your dad. But that doesn't mean the friendship is over."

"It doesn't?"

"Of course not," said Sirius. "I'm sure this wasn't the end of your friendship."

"Ron said the best thing to do is to act like it doesn't bother me," Harry told him.

"Well, now, that's not very good advice, is it?" said Sirius. "I mean…the only way you _can_ clear the air is to say what's bothering you. I seriously doubt she knows just how much she hurt you."

"But he said I'm better off without her," Harry insisted.

"I know how you feel about Hermione, Harry," said Sirius, "and I think you are better off _with_ her."

"What do you mean, you know how I feel?" Harry demanded, remembering it. "How _could_ you know?"

"I'm not _stupid_ , Harry," said Sirius softly.

"I never said you were!" Harry said back, feeling frustrated.

"Just think about what I said, all right?" Sirius ruffled Harry's hair and stood up. "I have to get to class now. Seventh-year Slytherin and Gryffindor, you know."

"I'd better get to class then, too," said Harry.

"You stay where you are!" Madam Pomfrey barked. "I want to make sure you're well before you go anywhere!"

Harry didn't complain, for this would mean skipping History of Magic. Sirius patted Harry on the shoulder and left the room. Harry did think about what Sirius said, but he didn't know if he could talk to Hermione. Pretending the fight didn't bother him had seemed like the best thing to do, to hear Ron tell it. But according to Sirius, Harry and Hermione wouldn't be friends again until Harry told her she had hurt his feelings. But when _would_ he tell her? Certainly not tonight. Maybe tomorrow, after Care of Magical Creatures.

Around five, Ron came back to the hospital wing and gave Harry the pirate costume Mrs. Weasley had sewn for him. Ron was already in his costume, and he had Scabbers perched on his shoulder. Scabbers was going to be the parrot on his shoulder, he explained, and he thought maybe Hedwig could be Harry's parrot.

"Well…I don't think she would really want to do that," said Harry. "And your rat will be a very sleepy parrot. But I'll put on the pirate costume."

Harry had to admit, the sight of himself dressed up for Halloween did raise his spirits a little. He had never gone trick-or-treating before, because he never had any friends to go with, and as for a Halloween party, nobody had ever invited him to any party at all. The students were allowed to wear their Halloween costumes to school, but Harry knew that whatever he chose, he'd be laughed at, so he just went as himself every year since his first year at primary school.

"All right now," said Ron. "Sirius's party is at six, and so is the Halloween feast. But Sirius says he knows some secret ways to get into Hogsmeade, and he'll provide refreshments."

…

Harry and Ron hung out in the Gryffindor dorms until six, when it was time to go to the Halloween party in the dungeons. It was only for Gryffindors, so Ravenclaw, Slytherin, and Hufflepuff were all eating at the feast.

Ron put Scabbers in his pocket (he said he didn't want to keep him on his shoulder all night, in case he got cold down in the dungeons), and he and Harry headed to the party.

"Harry! Ron!" Sirius sounded pleased. "So glad you could make it!"

"Us too," Ron told him. "We're pirates."

"I can see that," said Sirius. "Now, go enjoy the refreshments while we wait for the rest of the guests."

Almost all of Gryffindor turned up. Ron said he wasn't surprised when his brother Percy didn't—he wasn't a fan of parties and was at the Halloween feast, telling people off for chewing too loudly, probably. Of course Fred and George showed up. Sirius seemed to like them; he said they reminded him of himself and Harry's father when they were younger. Harry thought Hermione wouldn't turn up, but she did, dressed as a 1960's flower child, although she kept to herself, mostly hanging around the refreshments table.

Sirius had brought a record player and was playing his favorite music, classic Muggle rock. According to him, both he and James had fallen in love with it the moment they heard it. He played "Monster Mash", of course, since it was Halloween, and the song had come out when he was nearly three years old. Harry was glad he had come, because dancing away his troubles felt great.

The older kids started demanding slow songs, so Sirius played "Total Eclipse of the Heart". Harry watched the couples grab each other, like magnets. Nearly all of the first years and a great majority of the second years were sitting out, hovering awkwardly by the refreshments table, shoving Honeydukes chocolate into their faces, while the older kids close-danced.

Ron was one of the people devouring chocolate. The song's haunting melody didn't seem to affect him at all. Hermione was sitting in a chair, sipping butterbeer, her brown eyes wide and lonely. Harry thought her costume looked nice. She was wearing sandals, a halo of flowers, a shapeless white gown, and a big rainbow peace-sign necklace. At the moment, however, you'd think that whatever cause she was supporting wasn't going very well.

 _Once upon a time I was falling in love…Now I'm only falling apart…_

"Oh, cheer up," said Ron, noticing Harry watching her. "Come on, I'll show you something funny."

Harry didn't think there was anything that could cheer him up, but it was a little funny when Ron took Scabbers out of his pocket and moved across the dance floor, pretending to dance with his useless pet rat.

But then they heard Sirius's yell, louder than it had ever been, the music still playing as Sirius ran towards Ron…

 _I really need you tonight…Forever's gonna start tonight…Forever's gonna start tonight…_

"Ron!" Sirius barked. "Give me that rat!"

"What? Why?" Ron said in shock.

"Because he's not a rat," Sirius shouted, "no more than I am a dog!"

As the song finally ended, Harry realized what Sirius was talking about.

"It's Wormtail, Ron!" Harry cried. "Peter Pettigrew! Your rat is the one who framed Sirius!"

Everyone was crowding around now, fascinated. Harry was the only one not focused on Scabbers, because he was too focused on Sirius. There on his godfather's face was a look Harry had never seen before. It was complete, utter loathing, all twisted up in his hatred; he was already drawing his wand from his black Halloween robes.

"What are you going to do to him, Sirius?" Ron asked worriedly.

Sirius didn't listen. Instead, he turned his wand on the rat, and suddenly, he wasn't a rat anymore. He was a man, a fat, short man who had gone mostly bald. His face was still sort of ratlike, and, looking up at Sirius, his expression was one of utter terror.

"How ironic it is, Wormtail," Sirius snarled, "that Halloween will be the day you die!"

"D-d-die?" Pettigrew stammered, sounding like Quirrell.

"Don't you remember what happened on this very night, ten years ago?" Sirius's voice was a growl. "You took away what was most important to me, and now I'm going to take away what's most important to you."

Wormtail looked around frantically. His eyes fell on Harry; he crawled desperately to him and started blathering about how Harry looked like his father. This was a mistake.

There was a collective gasp from everyone in the room as Sirius transformed into Padfoot mid-jump and tackled Wormtail to the ground, sinking inch-long fangs into his left arm. It seemed Sirius didn't believe Wormtail deserved to die a quick and painless death. Wormtail howled in agony as blood gushed from the wound.

Quite apart from being stunned at how big Padfoot was (each paw was bigger than Harry's whole hand spread out, and on his hind legs Padfoot was still several heads taller than Harry, and probably at least one hundred and fifty pounds heavier), Harry couldn't believe he was watching his godfather mauling someone in front of almost every Gryffindor in the school. Was this against the rules? Harry didn't care about Wormtail, but he didn't want Sirius to, say, get sacked.

Hermione came running up to them and squealed, "No, Sirius, no!"

"Stop!" Harry chimed in, trying to wrap his arms around Padfoot and pull him away. Reluctantly, the massive dog turned back into a man.

"What?!" he snapped. Wormtail was rocking back and forth, caterwauling, clutching his utterly mangled arm. It had nearly been bitten in half. His face was turning very white.

"I think he's losing too much blood," Hermione gasped. "Sirius, he's dying!"

"Good," Sirius snarled. "I'll watch you die, Peter, right in front of me, right in front of every Gryffindor. You have shamed your alma mater. You have shamed your friends. You have shamed wizardkind. I don't mind watching you bleed to death."

"If he dies, Sirius, you'll be sent back to prison, this time on real charges," Hermione pleaded. "You can't let this happen."

"But—"

"Sirius, she's right." Harry walked up to Sirius, looked at the dying Wormtail, then back at his godfather again. "When you tried to kill him ten years ago, you didn't have anything. My parents were dead, and you couldn't keep me. But that's not how things are now. This time you have something to live for. Think of me. Think of Barbara. Think of Ron and Hermione. Think of Gryffindor. You have a reason to stay out of prison this time. Don't go, Sirius. I love you so much."

"You're the best teacher we've ever had," Fred Weasley added. "Much better than Professor Kettleburn ever was."

"Yeah, he always gave us loads of homework," George agreed.

Sirius frowned, looked from Harry to the twitching, white-faced Wormtail, then back to Harry again. Then he ran to Wormtail's side.

"I need a belt! Somebody get me a belt!" he barked, his face now quite as white as Wormtail's.

"I-I've got an underwire bra," said a female seventh-year, pulling hers off, to everyone's shock. "Will that work, Professor Black?"

"Wonderfully."

Sirius reached his hand up and caught the brassiere in one hand. Harry couldn't see what he was doing to Wormtail's arm, but he knew it must have been painful, because Wormtail was screaming in pain. When it was all over, Sirius moved aside; Wormtail was as pale as ever, but his arm had stopped bleeding, and the bra, along with Sirius's own wand, was tied above the elbow.

"Oh," Hermione breathed. "It's a tourniquet."

"Someone get him up to the hospital wing," Sirius growled, pointing upwards. "And call the Ministry of Magic. Tell them we've got a criminal to lock up."

Percy wasn't there, but the other Prefects rushed to him and one performed the _Mobilicorpus_ spell, levitating him upstairs to the hospital wing, where hopefully his arm could be fixed, and he could get sent to Azkaban in one piece.

"Sirius," Harry said, "you saved Wormtail's life."

"Don't remind me," Sirius said in disgust.

"How did you learn to do that?" Hermione asked, her eyes wide.

"James and I took a class on it one summer," Sirius explained. "So that we could save each other's lives if the need ever arose. We thought it would come in handy, but I never thought it would happen this way."

"You'd better head up to the hospital wing, Sirius," Hermione said nervously. "I expect the Minister of Magic is going to want to talk to you."

"You're right," Sirius said glumly, giving Harry, Hermione and Ron hugs. "We'll see each other again soon."

The trio watched Sirius go up the stairs, and so did every other Gryffindor. Harry was about to start talking to Ron again when he felt someone tug on his hand. It was Hermione.

"Harry," she whispered. "Will you come with me? I need to tell you something."

Staring into her deep brown eyes, blood pounding in his ears, Harry nodded.


	40. The Troll

Hermione held Harry's hand and led him out of the dungeon room where the party had been taking place. She brought him all the way to a small chamber right at the end of the hallway, then beckoned for him to go inside.

"I can't go in there, Hermione," said Harry hoarsely. "That's a girls' bathroom."

"It's the dungeons, nobody ever uses this one," said Hermione. "Listen…I don't know if seeing Wormtail was what did it…but I just wanted to apologize for my behavior."

"What?" gasped Harry.

"I want to apologize," Hermione repeated, hanging her head low. "I was angry with you two, but that's no excuse for me to be hurtful. I-I'm really sorry."

Harry tried to remember what Sirius had said.

"Well, you did hurt my feelings, more than I think you know," he said slowly. "But I forgive you. Apology accepted."

"Oh, Harry…" Hermione finally looked up into Harry's eyes; brown met green, and he was shocked to find that tears were shimmering in her eyes like tiny diamonds. "Is there anything I can possibly do to make it up to you?"

"N-No," said Harry. "I-I mean, um, it's okay. Being friends again is…is enough for me."

The tears became more pronounced in Hermione's eyes.

"You don't need to cry," he said hurriedly. "I-I forgive you. And you know…I'm not blameless…we _did_ break the rules, after all…"

"Well, maybe rule-breaking isn't all bad." Hermione gave him a watery smile. "After all, if it wasn't for rule-breaking, Remus would have had to be alone on the full moon, wouldn't he?"

"Yes," said Harry, smiling himself, "and I think it's against the rules for Sirius to nearly tear someone's arm off. But I don't think anybody minded watching that douchenozzle Wormtail suffer, do you?"

"You're so great, Harry," Hermione told Harry, laughing a little, and before he knew it, she had thrown her arms around his neck in a tight hug. His heart burst and he knew, he just _knew_ that this was where he belonged. All the sadness, all the pain, it left him like a bird soaring up, up away off the highest tower, and the happy feelings that replaced it seemed to light the dungeon room as bright as a summer's day.

"Nobody hugs like you, Hermione," he told her; he just couldn't wipe the grin off his face.

"Give yourself some credit," she replied, smiling with her teeth. Harry was just about to maybe give her another hug when a horrible smell hit his nostrils.

"D'you…d'you smell something?" he asked, looking at Hermione, but she wasn't looking at him anymore. She was staring at something behind him, her mouth wide—and then she let out a terrible scream.

Harry whirled around. He had never seen one in person, but he knew what it must be.

"Mountain troll!" Hermione shrieked, running in the opposite direction, her arms over her head. How on Earth could a troll have gotten in? What were they going to do? The troll could surely bash their brains out with that club if it wanted to.

Hermione was backing into the wall, her face white. The troll was going after her. Harry grabbed one of the sinks the troll had knocked to the ground and threw it against the wall.

"Confuse it!" he yelled to Hermione, drawing his wand.

But she was paralyzed with fear. The troll turned away from Harry and started advancing on her again. Harry ran up from behind, took a great leap and clung to the troll's neck. The troll didn't notice Harry hanging there—but Harry had still been holding his wand, and in the confusion, the long stick of wood got shoved up the troll's nose.

Hermione, terrified, sunk to the ground. Harry looked at the wand that was still in his hand and suddenly he got an idea. He let go of the troll's neck and dropped to the ground, landing on his feet.

" _Locomotor Mortis!"_ he yelled at the top of his lungs.

The troll stumbled a little as the curse hit it, but it kept on moving. Then Harry remembered something Sirius had told them in Care of Magical Creatures class. Many magical creatures, like dragons and giants, had magic inside them that kept them protected from spells, especially spells attempted by first-years.

"Hermione, help me!" Harry shouted.

" _Locomotor Mortis!"_ cried Hermione, pulling out her wand and pointing it at the troll. But she couldn't do it, either.

"Keep trying!"

Hermione repeated the Leg-Locker Curse, and so did Harry. Then they both shouted it at the same time, and two spells did what one could not—Harry's curse hit the troll in the chest while Hermione's got its legs. The troll's legs snapped together and, like a mighty oak, down it fell to the floor. The whole chamber shook with its weight.

" _Relashio!"_ Hermione shrieked. The troll's club was released from its grip; Harry ran forward, grabbed the club, and brought it down on the troll's head.

CRACK! The mountain troll was out like a light.

For a few moments there was silence; then Harry ran to Hermione and helped her up, pulling her into another hug. When they'd separated, Hermione was watching the troll.

"Is it—dead?" she asked hesitantly.

"I don't think so," Harry told her. "I think it's just been knocked out."

SLAM! The door to the bathroom flew open again, and Harry and Hermione looked up. Professor McGonagall had made her way into the room, followed by Snape, Quirrell, and…

"Harry! Hermione!"

The vicious, murderous, arm-mangling man they had known less than an hour ago was gone, and he had been replaced by what could only be described as a "mother hen". He grabbed both Harry and Hermione, squeezing them tight, as if trying to break their ribs.

"Sirius," said Harry, "I-I can't breathe—"

"Harry James, I would like to reach middle age without having a heart attack, if you please," Sirius gasped, his face white. "What—what _happened_ here?"

Looking around, Harry noticed that Professor McGonagall looked angrier than he had ever seen her. Quirrell had sunk onto one of the toilet seats; he was whimpering and one hand was held over his heart. Snape was bending over the troll, looking it over in a scrutinizing way.

"They seem to have used the Leg-Locker Curse," Snape said slowly. "But how?"

"We both used it at the same time," Harry told him shakily.

"Again," said Sirius impatiently, _"what happened?"_

"I would like to know also," Professor McGonagall said sharply.

"Professor McGonagall…he was looking for me."

"What?" said all four teachers at once, swiveling around to look at Hermione. Harry was staring at her, too.

"I went looking for the troll because I-I thought I could deal with it on my own—you know, because I've read all about them."

Everyone, including Harry, looked at Hermione in shock.

"Harry saved my life with this troll," she continued, pointing at it with her wand. "He didn't have time to go and fetch a teacher. It was about to finish me off when he arrived. Harry stuck his wand up the troll's nose, we both used the Leg-Locker Curse on it, and then, when it fell to the ground, Harry banged it on the head with its own club and…well, it appears to be unconscious."

"Well—in that case," said Professor McGonagall, "Miss Granger, you foolish girl, how could you think of tackling a mountain troll on your own?"

Hermione didn't say anything, just looked down at her feet. Harry was incredibly grateful that she was covering for him; this, he supposed, was her way of making peace after their fight. It was more than enough.

"Miss Granger, five points will be taken from Gryffindor for this," Professor McGonagall told her. "I'm very disappointed in you."

Hermione kept her head down in shame.

"As for you, Mr. Potter…" Professor McGonagall then turned to Harry. "I still say you were lucky, but not many first years could have taken on a full-grown mountain troll. Professor Dumbledore will be informed of this. I award you ten points."

"Professor McGonagall, they took care of the troll for us," said Sirius. "Shouldn't it be twenty?"

Snape glared.

"Oh…very well, then," said Professor McGonagall. Harry knew she was only agreeing because Gryffindor was her House.

"You three go on," said Sirius to Snape, McGonagall and Quirrell. "I'll escort Harry and Hermione upstairs."

Professor McGonagall nodded, beckoned for Quirrell and Snape to follow, and all three left.

"All right," said Sirius once they had all left, standing imperiously in Harry and Hermione's path. "What's the _real_ story here?"

"What…what do you mean?" Hermione asked nervously.

"Well, for one thing, you aren't dumb enough to try and take on a troll yourself, Hermione," Sirius began. "And as for you, Harry—I recognize that look on your face. I saw it on your dad's face every time he got into trouble, and that was a lot. You know, the 'oh-crap-I'm-in-trouble' look."

"Fine," said Harry. "Hermione took me in here to tell me she wanted to be friends again, and the troll followed us."

"Uh-huh," said Sirius, his arms crossed. "Look, I'm very glad you two made up and all, but next time can you not almost get killed? Oh, and Hermione—as a teacher, I'll give you those five points back, as long as you don't tell McGonagall. You didn't deserve to have them taken away, after all."

"So…what happened when _you_ went upstairs?" Harry asked, as they left the girls' bathroom and headed up the stairs, out of the dungeons. "How did you know about the troll?"

"I was up on my way to the hospital wing when I saw Quirrell rushing past me," Sirius told them. "So I followed him into the Great Hall, and he told everyone there was a troll in the dungeons…Beats the hell out of me how he knew, but anyway, I went downstairs to evacuate any students who were left over from the Halloween party, and I didn't see you there, so I located you using this—" (Sirius, to Harry's shock, whipped the Marauders' Map out of the folds of his robes) "—and I got McGonagall to follow me, and Quirrell and Snape were hanging around so they went too and then we heard the troll roaring and the fighting and we knew what must have happened…I was so afraid I'd lost you."

"What about Wormtail?" Hermione said.

"We're going to tell Madame Pomfrey a dog bit him," Sirius told her, eyes gleaming. "But not which one."

Harry grinned.

…

When they got up to the hospital wing, Wormtail's arm was as good as new, and Aurors from the Ministry of Magic were due to arrive any moment. When Sirius arrived, he crossed his arms and looked straight at Wormtail, but Wormtail looked away.

"Oh, look, Wormtail," said Harry, who just couldn't resist. "It's the man who saved your life."

Wormtail didn't say anything. He couldn't; one of the Prefects had used _Silencio_ on him.

That was when Ron came running into the hospital wing, too. Underneath the freckles he looked a little pale. He looked shocked at the sight of Harry and Hermione.

"The troll!" he gasped. "Did you hear about the—"

"Yes, we heard," Hermione told him, smiling. "And guess what? Harry and I are friends again!"

"That's…that's great," said Ron, looking surprised at them.

"Ahem."

Sirius, Harry, Ron and Hermione all turned around. There was a girl standing there, the seventh year who had lent Sirius her bra.

"Oh, hello, Holly," said Sirius casually.

"I've come for my bra back," said Holly, raising her eyebrows; then she snapped at Harry and Ron, "and you two can stop staring now, thanks."

Harry and Ron both quickly looked away. Holly's black cat costume was rather tight, so without her brassiere, not much was left to the imagination.

"Oh, you don't want that old thing, Holly," Sirius said, pointing at the bloodied remains of Holly's bra; he reached into his robes and took out some Muggle money. "Buy yourself a new one, on me."

"Thirty pounds!" Holly exclaimed. "This was almost exactly how much the old one cost!"

"I thought you didn't know how much anything cost in the Muggle world," said Harry.

"Well, I know how much _some_ things cost," Sirius replied, shrugging.

"Thanks, Professor Black," said Holly with a flirty smile, and she left the hospital wing with a spring in her step, which caused Harry and Ron to both watch her (or, rather, one specific bouncy part of her) until she was completely out of sight. Harry, Ron, Hermione and Sirius sat down on empty beds in the hospital wing and waited for the Ministry officials to turn up—and in about ten minutes, they did.

"Look who it is," said one of the Aurors, advancing upon Wormtail, who was still sitting in the bed. "Public Enemy Number One! Convicted of killing twelve Muggles with a single curse, breaking the statue of secrecy, framing someone else, a Death Eater…oh, and you're an illegal Animagus to boot. Tsk, tsk."

"You'd do well with a nice long stay in the stony lonesome, mate," said the other Auror, grabbing Wormtail's arm, the one Sirius had almost bitten off; he would have yelped in pain, but he was still magically muted.

"How long is he going to get?" Harry asked.

"Whatever the maximum sentence is, I'm sure," said a third Auror. "Like, three consecutive life sentences, maybe. One for his actual, miserable life, and the other two just because."

Wormtail looked very pale as the Aurors led him away.

"Let it be known that on Halloween 1991, a real douchenozzle was put away for good," Sirius said triumphantly. "He'll never get out of there."

They all exchanged high-fives, even Hermione. Madam Pomfrey looked exasperated.


	41. Jinx

The next day, Friday, Harry was overjoyed to finally be able to walk to class with Hermione again. Ron came with them, too. Potions sucked as usual, but Care of Magical Creatures looked interesting. There were a few brilliantly white horses nearby with horns on their heads…

"Ooh, look, unicorns," said Hermione, pointing.

The three of them walked to the paddock, where Sirius was standing, although he was a relatively far distance away from the unicorns.

"Good afternoon, class." Sirius smiled. "As you can see, today we will be studying unicorns. Girls, you can go up and pet them, but the boys should stay back. Unicorns prefer female company."

Hermione went to pet the unicorns with the rest of the girls; Sirius walked among them, handing out sugar cubes and apples. Harry and Ron were watching with interest, but their interest switched somewhere else as a familiar, well-endowed seventh year walked by, surrounded by some of her friends.

"There goes Holly," said Harry, nudging Ron. "The one who, um, helped Sirius with the tourniquet."

"I bet her…her _you-know-whats_ are like soft pillows," said Ron dreamily.

"Smooth skin, too," Harry added.

"Oooooh," they said at the same time.

"I noticed Sirius wasn't staring at her when she was braless, though," Ron said thoughtfully.

"Well, first of all," said a voice from behind them, "she's my _student_."

They turned. There was Sirius, his arms crossed, one eyebrow arched slightly.

"Second," he continued, as both of them turned red, "she's about fifteen years younger than I am. And third, I already know what breasts look like."

Harry and Ron looked at each other, impressed.

"You do?" said Harry.

"Of course," Sirius replied. "What did you two think girls have got in their bras? Water balloons?"

They both shrugged. It was a great mystery.

"What happens when you squeeze 'em?" Ron asked eagerly.

"All right, that's enough," said Sirius. "Get back to the paddock, go on, we're going to take some notes."

…

Quidditch season was in full swing now. Hermione assured Harry that she would come to every one of his matches, and the two of them had promised to never fight again. Harry got the feeling that she, like him, felt that the troll incident had bonded them. Hermione also borrowed a book from the library, _Quidditch Through the Ages_ , and lent it to Harry, because his first Quidditch match ever was coming up soon.

The day before the match, Harry, Ron and Hermione were outside in the cold courtyard, enjoying a warm fire Hermione had conjured up for them, when Sirius ran up to them excitedly.

"Look, another letter from Barbara!" he panted.

"How does she get letters to you?" Harry asked. "I doubt she uses an owl."

"I gave her the address to the Hogsmeade P.O. box," Sirius explained. "Whenever she wants to send me a letter, she just addresses it to there. The Muggle mailman takes the letter from her, and he delivers it all the way to the nearest Muggle post office."

"How does the letter get all the way to Hogsmeade, then?" said Ron.

"There's a wizard who works there in secret," Sirius explained, "and when he's going through the mail, he picks out the letters addressed to witches and wizards in the area, and takes them to Hogsmeade. Then, you just go to the post office and check the Muggle mailbox there."

"It's quite clever, really," said Hermione.

"Let's read it!" Sirius eagerly opened the letter and was just about to read when Snape approached them. For some reason, he was limping.

"What's that?" Snape demanded.

"It's a letter, duh," said Sirius.

"Not _that_." Snape pointed at Harry's borrowed library book. "That."

"Just a library book," Harry said innocently, showing it to him.

"Library books are not to be taken outside the school," Snape snapped. "Five points from Gryffindor."

"You made that rule up!" Sirius shouted. "Give him back those five points!"

"Be quiet, _Professor Black_ ," Snape told him. "Everyone knows you favor Gryffindor."

"Oh, and you totally _don't_ favor Slytherin," Sirius said back. "Well, WE'RE going to win the House Cup this year!"

"Who's 'we'?" said Snape smoothly. "Aren't you not supposed to take sides, as a teacher?"

"Kind of the pot calling the kettle black, aren't we, Snape?"

"Now, now, you two, please stop fighting," said Hermione reasonably. "Fighting never solves anything."

Snape turned on his heel, taking the book with him. Sirius sighed.

…

That night, Harry wanted his book back. So he went down to the staffroom, hoping maybe Snape had left it in there. Snape might not be too willing to surrender the book, but maybe if there were other teachers there, he wouldn't argue. But when Harry knocked on the door, there was no answer.

Harry opened the door.

Snape was there with Filch, just the two of them. Snape was holding up his robes and Filch was handing him bandages. Snape's leg was a bloody, mangled mess, not unlike Wormtail's arm before Madam Pomfrey had fixed him.

"Blasted thing," Snape said. "How are you supposed to keep your eyes on all three heads at once?"

Just as Harry was trying to leave without being noticed, Snape caught his eye.

"POTTER!" he hollered, dropping his robes.

"I was wondering if I could have my book back," Harry told him nervously.

"GET OUT! _OUT!"_

Harry ran all the way back up to Gryffindor Tower, where Ron and Hermione were waiting for him, and he told them about his Snape encounter.

"You know what this means?" he said. "He tried to get past that three-headed dog at Halloween! He's after whatever it's guarding! And I'd bet my broomstick _he_ let that troll in, to make a diversion!"

"No—he wouldn't," Hermione insisted. "I know he's not very nice, but he wouldn't try and steal something Dumbledore was keeping safe."

"Honestly, Hermione, you think all teachers are saints or something," said Ron. "I'm with Harry. I wouldn't put anything past Snape. But what's he after? What's that dog guarding?"

"Do you think we could ask Sirius?" said Hermione, turning to Harry.

"I don't think even he knows," Harry told her. "It might just be Dumbledore and the gamekeeper, Hagrid. When Sirius and I were in Diagon Alley, we ran into him when he was retrieving whatever it is. It was so top-secret, they had to just say 'You-Know-What'."

….

"He didn't _catch_ it, he nearly _swallowed_ it!"

The match had been lost…that is, for Slytherin. Gryffindor had won by 170 points to 60. But Harry wasn't focusing on the victory; he was focusing on something that had happened _during_ the match, as were Ron, Hermione and Sirius, who were hauling him off to Sirius's teacher's quarters.

"What happened?" Sirius asked, looking worried. "You lost control of your broomstick?"

"Yeah," said Harry shakily. "I don't know why, though."

"Snape did it," Ron told them.

"It was Snape?" Sirius repeated. "You think he was jinxing the broom?"

"Yeah," said Ron. "I saw him. So did Hermione."

"Oh God, a jinx…" Sirius frowned. "But he would have had to keep eye contact with Harry all through the game. You have to keep eye contact when you jinx something, you know."

"Of course I know," said Hermione, "and he _didn't_ take his eyes off Harry until I used one of my portable fires on him!"

"I wouldn't have believed it." Sirius let his breath out through his nose. "I mean, Snape is a nasty person, but even he wouldn't try to _kill_ a student, would he?"

"Listen, Sirius…" Harry swallowed. "Do you remember that troll from Halloween night?"

"No," said Sirius sarcastically; then, "of course I remember, it almost killed you and Hermione, didn't it?"

"Yeah, well, we know why there's a Forbidden Corridor," Ron told him. "It's because there's a giant three-headed dog there, guarding something—no joke. It's right over a trapdoor. And we think Snape let the troll in, as a diversion, so he could get to whatever the dog is guarding. We think he wants to steal it."

"How do you know?" Sirius asked anxiously.

"I think the dog bite on his leg told me well enough," Harry said flatly. "It looked like the one you gave Wormtail."

There was a long pause, then finally Sirius spoke.

"That settles it," he said.

"It settles what?" Harry asked.

"Our classes, remember?" Sirius stood up. "Quirrell can't teach you Defense Against the Dark Arts. You need a real teacher. We're going to start as soon as possible."


	42. Defense Against the Dark Arts

**HpFanFicLoverXox: Oh, I see. I guess the fact that there's a username (as opposed to the word "Guest") kind of threw me off. About the troll, in the book it wandered into the girl's bathroom where Hermione was, and Harry and Ron watched it go. In this story, Hermione and Harry were already in there, but it wandered in all the same.**

 **Guest: I respect your opinion. I knew not everyone would like the HermionexHarry thing. But they are my OTP. As for Ron, I'm not a big fan either, but I didn't want to turn this into a Ron-bashing fic or anything. Remember, though, that this story is still primarily about Sirius and Harry, not Hermione and Harry. I'm not going to let myself get sidetracked with the romance. So think of that before you say goodbye, at least!**

 **Now for Chapter 42.**

…

Not an hour after the game, Sirius, Harry, Ron and Hermione had rounded up a bunch of Gryffindors, all eager to take Sirius's Defense class. It was mostly third years and below, probably because the older kids felt that they already knew much of what he was going to teach.

"All right," said Sirius, pacing back and forth in front of the Gryffindors in front of him. "Let's get down to business. Lesson one—Resourcefulness. Can anyone define this for me?"

Hermione raised her hand.

"Yes?" said Sirius.

"Resourcefulness means using any and all resources at hand to achieve your goal," Hermione said.

"Good job." Sirius beamed. "Ten points to Gryffindor. Now…resourcefulness means anything can be a weapon. Resourcefulness means thinking on your feet. Resourcefulness means taking advantage of your opponent's weaknesses. Dueling with Death Eaters is not like dueling with your friends for practice. They're not going to play fair. They're not going to warn you before they perform a deadly curse on you or one of your friends. So be prepared to be ruthless as well if you have to be.

"I offer my greatest sympathies," Sirius continued, "to those of you who have lost family and friends to Voldemort—"

Several people cried out in horror; many shuddered; one tiny girl in front started to cry. Sirius looked stricken.

"Hey, don't cry," he said, pulling some Honeydukes chocolate out of the pocket of his robes and bending down to hand it to her. "Your name's Melody, isn't it?"

She nodded, her fingers fumbling to open the package.

"All right, Melody," said Sirius gently. "That's just what he wants, you know—for people to be scared at the sound of his name. Do you want him to have that kind of power over you? Do you want _anyone_ to have that kind of power over you? You're the boss of you, nobody else. Remember that."

Melody just sniffed and nodded again.

"This is an optional class," Sirius said, standing up again, "but one of the things I want to teach you is that if you don't conquer your fears, they will conquer you. So the first thing we'll be doing this afternoon is learning to say the name without fear. Would you like to stay, Melody? It's your choice."

"I'll stay," she said bravely, finally managing to open the chocolate.

"Atta girl," Sirius told her, grinning. "Now, everyone, repeat after me—Vol…"

"Vol…"

"De…"

"De…"

"Mort!"

"Mort," the class chorused.

"Now, that wasn't so hard, was it?" said Sirius. "Just put them together. Vol-de-mort. Voldemort."

"Voldemort," said everyone. They practiced saying the name a bit more. It was easy for Harry, since he'd never really had trouble saying the name. But it was great watching everyone be less afraid, too.

"Voldemort's name is actually French, if you study the etymology," Sirius continued. "It means 'flight from death', roughly translated. So as you see, even at the height of his powers, Voldemort is the weak one, because he fears death. Meddling with life and death is not our place, as humans—thus, doing so is considered the Darkest of magic. Voldemort is just a coward, fleeing from something he can't control. If we let him control us, we've already lost. And as long as even just one person stands up to him, there's still hope for the future. That will start with us."

Everyone clapped. Next to Harry, Hermione was wiping her eyes.

"Now, with that out of the way…we're going to learn about resourcefulness, like I said," Sirius told them. "Even a simple spell, like a Hover Charm or a Summoning Charm, can help you win a duel. Everyday objects can come in handy. There's an extremely handy spell I can teach you as well. Can anyone tell me what _Oppugno_ does?"

Nobody was surprised when Hermione raised her hand again.

" _Oppugno_ ," she said, "is an offensive magic spell that influences objects to attack."

"Couldn't have put it better myself," Sirius told her. "If your opponent conjures up a weapon, say, a sword, if you know _Oppugno_ , you could cause the sword to attack the very wizard who conjured it."

"Awesome," said Ron.

"All right now," Sirius said. "For homework—"

"We're going to have _homework?"_ said one of the Weasley twins in disbelief.

"Oh, relax, I don't give you any homework in my actual class, do I?" Sirius said impatiently. "Your homework is to pick either an everyday object OR an everyday, non-offensive or defensive spell, and write one roll of parchment about how it can be used as a weapon against a Dark wizard. Class dismissed."

Everyone scattered except Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

"I bet your first pick was Defense Against the Dark Arts, wasn't it?" Harry asked. "You're good at teaching it."

"I'd have liked to teach this class, yeah," Sirius replied. "It just doesn't sit right with me that you lot have such a sub-par Defense teacher."

"I thought nothing sat right with you these days," said Harry, grinning.

"Ah, get out of here," said Sirius. "I need to plan my next lesson."


	43. In the Owlery

That November was a very cold one. Even though it was warm in Gryffindor's common room near the fire, it was freezing cold in the castle. Harry wished they could have heating, like his apartment with Sirius in London, but he knew it wasn't possible. Potions class was the worst, not just because of Snape, but because it was in the dungeons, which were even colder.

Midway through November, Harry had just finished with Care of Magical Creatures, numb with cold because those lessons took place outside. Harry told Ron and Hermione to go on to Gryffindor Tower. He wanted to say hello to Hedwig and make sure she was warm enough.

However, when Harry entered the Owlery, he was surprised to find Sirius in there, too, attaching a letter to a random owl's leg.

"Hi, Sirius," said Harry. "Who's that for?"

"It's for Barbara," Sirius explained. "She sent me a letter asking if I wanted to come home for a week or so during the holidays. I'm just letting her know I'd love to. I miss her terribly, you know."

"It seems like she misses you too," said Harry, as he watched Sirius finish tying the letter to the post owl's leg.

"Please place this letter in Barbara's letterbox," Sirius told the owl. It flew off. Then he turned to Harry and added, "Yeah, I guess she does."

"You know, that reminds me…" Harry frowned. "Remember the night right before school started, and you spent the evening with Barbara instead of me?"

"I really do feel bad about that," said Sirius.

"No, I was going to say that now I see why you did it," Harry told him. "I didn't know you were going to be a teacher at the school, remember? That was the last time you would see her until Christmas, and you were going to be seeing me every day. Now I get it."

"Thanks, Harry." Sirius smiled. "That is why we did it. She knew I was going off to Scotland."

"Everybody respects you a real lot, you know," said Harry. "Well, except the Slytherins, maybe…but the Gryffindors especially. Mostly because of your great lessons, but also because they saw you make the tourniquet on Halloween night, and capture a criminal to boot."

"Stupid idiot," said Sirius, shaking his head. "Trying to disguise himself as a common house pet."

"And you were right about something else, too," Harry continued. "I thought my friendship with Hermione was over, but then you told me it might not be, and she apologized."

Harry thought of that. It must have been his best Halloween night ever. Peter Pettigrew met his downfall on the same night he had tried to kill Harry's parents, and then being wrapped up in Hermione's arms…It was such a beautiful memory…

"Actually, Prongslet…" Sirius squeezed Harry's shoulder. "That reminds me. I wanted to have a word with you about something important."

"Yes?" said Harry.

"Come and sit over here," Sirius told him, sitting down on the floor and beckoning for Harry to join him. When Harry did, Sirius put an arm around his godson's shoulders.

"What is it?" Harry asked.

"Well…" Sirius sighed, and the gust of air made his bangs fly up a little. "Do you…do you ever feel like you and Hermione are, well… _more_ than friends?"

"What?" Harry frowned. "N-No…I think we're just friends."

"Come on, now, Harry, I've known you've fancied her since the beginning of the school year," Sirius told him, raising an eyebrow.

"No, I haven't!" Harry told him defensively. As far as he knew, he'd never fancied a girl. He remembered watching Barbara and Sirius kissing on the hood of Barbara's car, and wondering what would drive a person to do something like that. He remembered wondering, the night he turned eleven, whether he would have a girlfriend by the time he was seventeen, and if he did, who it would be. But he hadn't known Hermione then.

"Oh really," said Sirius. "Tell me…how does it feel when she leans her head on your shoulder? When you give her a hug? When she smiles at you and says your name?"

Harry didn't even have to think about that.

"Weird," he said.

"Good weird or bad weird?"

"Wonderful weird," Harry breathed, leaning back into the wall.

"I rest my case," Sirius said serenely.

Harry suddenly found that his heart was beating very fast. What was this? What was Sirius saying? Sirius accused him of fancying Hermione—but wouldn't he _know_ if he fancied a girl? He had watched couples on Aunt Petunia's soap operas, saying they were madly in love, even if they did break up less than five episodes later…These people _knew_ they were in love. Harry had always assumed they felt a certain way, and then somehow they were convinced that this person was "the one" for them.

"B-But Sirius…" Harry spluttered. "I would _know_ if I fancied a girl, wouldn't I?"

"Not if you've never had a crush before, you wouldn't," Sirius replied.

"I-I don't think I've ever had one," Harry told him. "I've never felt this way about anyone before."

"There you go," said Sirius.

"So you think…you think I'm in _love?_ For real?"

"For real," said Sirius. "You had those feelings. I just don't think you realized what they meant."

"Oh God, it's true." Harry suddenly felt panic overtaking him. "Sirius, I-I don't want a crush!"

"Well, nobody _wants_ a crush," said Sirius. "But at least now you know what's going on."

"I was so confused," Harry confessed. "I've got all these new feelings I can't explain…but I don't want them to stop, because they're _good_ feelings…and only one girl can ever make them happen…I just wanted to talk to her all the time, be with her all the time. Just seeing her in the hallways gives me that weird jumping feeling in my stomach…But I didn't say anything, because it sounded too stupid."

Harry looked up at Sirius. On his face he wore a very kind smile.

"That's the way love is supposed to feel, Prongslet," he said. "It's not stupid."

"But if you knew," Harry asked, "why didn't you bring it up before now?"

"I guess I thought it was none of my business," Sirius told him, shrugging. "But the more I thought about it, the more I thought you ought to know."

Harry swallowed and leaned against Sirius. He had never been in love before. But apparently he was now, with the most wonderful girl he'd ever known.

"Why did it happen, Sirius?" he asked. "For my whole life, I've never loved anyone at all, not in that way, I mean. So…why now?"

"For the most part, because the right person finally came along," Sirius replied thoughtfully. "But also…I think you told me before that you were a little apprehensive about turning into a teenager, didn't you? When you turned eleven?"

"Yeah, I said that." Harry stared down at the ground; he _still_ was really dreading it.

"Well, it's going to happen anyway," said Sirius, putting one hand on Harry's shoulder. "You know that, don't you? Getting these romantic sorts of feelings is a big part of growing up."

"It is?" said Harry.

"Yes, of course," Sirius told him. "It's part of going through puberty."

This was news to Harry.

"But I thought…"

"What?"

"I thought it was about, you know…becoming a _man_ ," Harry told him hesitantly. "You know…I thought it meant getting taller. Much hairier, too, I guess. And I know my voice is supposed to drop. As for girls…" Harry thought of Holly. "I think it means they get breasts."

Sirius's "trying-not-to-laugh" face was definitely back.

"It's a bit more complicated than that, kid," he said, ruffling Harry's hair. "And you can bet that includes thinking about girls in a different way. You didn't know that?"

"No," Harry told him, "I didn't."

"Well, then, I'm glad _someone_ had the sense to tell you." Sirius put head on his knees and glanced at Harry. "I hope I didn't freak you out or anything. I was just trying to clear up some confusion."

"You did," Harry reassured him. "Loads of it."

"So…are you okay?" Sirius asked quietly.

"Yeah, I'm fine," said Harry. "I just need to think about this."

Slowly, he stood up, and so did Sirius.

"I'll see you at dinner, then, I suppose," Sirius told him. "And we're going to have our next Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson soon, so I guess I should be planning that, too."

They had already had several interesting lessons after the first; at the second meeting, they had decided to meet biweekly.

"Right," Harry agreed as he left the Owlery, still in shock. "See you at dinner."

…

When Harry got up to his dorm, he found it quite empty except for Ron, who was taking a nap under three flannel blankets. When Harry walked in, he awoke with a grunt.

"Oh…good afternoon, Harry," he mumbled sleepily.

"More like good evening," said Harry, then paused. "Listen, Ron…have you ever fancied a girl?"

"No," said Ron. "Why? Have you?"

Silence. Harry thought about it. Should he tell Ron? But then he shook his head.

"I haven't," he lied. "I was just wondering."

Harry wasn't sure why he hadn't shared his news with Ron; he just felt that this time, he should keep his feelings a secret.


	44. The Crush

Throughout much of October, Harry had been consumed by a depression-addled haze. Now, in November, it was the same, only instead of depression, it was something else, something much better.

Somehow, Sirius clarifying that Harry had a crush made it even more true. Ron was constantly asking Harry what was wrong with him, but now that Harry knew…

Harry and Hermione were already best friends, of course, so he didn't need to make excuses to walk with her or talk to her. They ate together like usual, and sat next to each other in class. Things were supposedly the same as they had been a couple weeks ago, but with Harry's realization of his crush, everything seemed different. Classes where he took notes were more interesting, at least.

 _HJP + HJG_. Their initials even rhymed, he realized during one particularly boring History of Magic lesson! (Professor Binns wouldn't look up from his notes if a meteor hit the classroom.) It was _meant_ to be! And their names sounded so nice together… _Harry and Hermione Potter_ …On several occasions Harry had written out "Harry Granger" on his notes, until he realized that if he married Hermione, she would be a Potter, too.

The only difficult thing was keeping this love a secret. Hermione couldn't know, because Harry didn't think she liked him back. Harry was afraid that if he told Ron about it, Ron might spill the secret to the whole school by accident. And of _course_ he couldn't let the Slytherins find out. He'd never live it down.

…

"Simple spells, simple attacks!" Sirius was lecturing, hands behind his back, pacing in front of the crowd of Gryffindors in front of him. "You'll be learning difficult spells from me, fellow Lions. But it's always better to be prepared, even if the chances of you running into a Dark wizard are quite slim."

"Hear, hear," everyone chorused.

"To begin with, we're going to be learning something that will _definitely_ come in handy when we're using lesson one, resourcefulness," Sirius said, drawing his wand. "It's the Summoning Charm, or _Accio_. This spell can be used in two ways—one, simply saying the incantation and pointing at the thing you're Summoning, or saying the incantation and the name of the thing you want, like so. _Accio pillow!"_

One of the pillows from an armchair near the fire zoomed towards Sirius, and he caught it in one hand. Everyone cheered.

Sirius then split them into pairs. Harry, of course, partnered with Hermione (Ron got stuck with Neville). Hermione was amazing at the Summoning Charm. In under one minute, she had managed to summon Harry's glasses, her school bag, one of Ron's quills, and a couch pillow, just like Sirius had.

Harry was having a little bit of trouble with the Summoning Charm. He tried to Summon things, but they kept falling onto the ground midway. Hermione told Harry he needed to concentrate more. He had her wear his glasses so he could try to Summon them, but they definitely couldn't concentrate then, because they were laughing at the sight.

" _Accio scarf!"_ said Hermione, pointing her wand at Harry's Gryffindor scarf. It flew off his neck and wrapped itself around hers. They laughed even harder.

"What's so funny?" asked Sirius, who had been roaming about his students, observing how well they could do the Charm.

"See? I'm Harry," said Hermione, adjusting the glasses.

" _Accio!"_ said Harry, pointing his wand at them. They flew off Hermione's face, and smacked Harry in the nose. Then the glasses dropped to the floor.

"You have to concentrate more on the thing you're Summoning, that's all," Sirius told them, then turned to Neville and Ron, who were having a far worse time at it. Neither of them could Summon a single thing.

…

"So, Hermione…" Harry began. The trio was studying (well, Hermione was; Harry was watching Hermione, and Ron was looking out the window distractedly). "Are you going to be staying at Hogwarts for Christmas?"

"Yeah, I am," Hermione told him. "I was going to go home, but then I learned my parents are going to Hawaii, and I'd rather spend Christmas with you, Ron and Sirius than spend seventeen hours on an airplane, my biggest fear. Eleven hours to the West Coast, then another five and a half hours to Honolulu…no thanks."

"Twice that, actually, since it's round-trip," Harry reminded her.

"True," she said. "Now, what are you studying?"

"Transfiguration." Harry showed her his book. "I'm trying to turn my quill into a pencil."

"That might be difficult at first," Hermione told him. "Hmm…do you want me to try?"

"Sure," Harry replied, beaming. He always loved watching Hermione do magic. It only took two attempts for her to turn Harry's quill into a pencil. It was a mechanical one, too.

"Now turn it back," Hermione suggested.

"No, thanks," Harry told her. "I'm not as good as you."

That was probably true, but it wasn't the real reason Harry didn't want to change it back. He would keep this mechanical pencil forever.

…

December crept ever closer. Harry was a little irritated that it was so cold yet there was no snow. Adults, he knew, mostly hated snow; he remembered how Uncle Vernon would complain as he beat it off his car, or Aunt Petunia screeching hysterically when someone's winter boots, wet from snow, left the foyer. They both abhorred driving in the white stuff. But as an eleven-year-old, Harry was looking forward to finally having a snowball fight with his new friends…and, of course, his crush.

As far as Harry could tell, Hermione had no idea Harry fancied her. With a pang of empathy, he remembered how she hadn't been exactly the most popular girl in her Muggle school, and even at Hogwarts, a lot of the students saw her as a bossy know-it-all. Harry suspected that Ron still thought this. And then there were the Slytherins, many (most?) of whom hated her simply because she wasn't a pureblood like Ron or Sirius, or even a half-blood like Harry, who found himself wondering if his own mother had ever faced the same discrimination. He could never ask her, but there was someone he could ask.

"Sirius," said Harry after Care of Magical Creatures class, early in the month of December. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure," said Sirius, who was packing away the fire lizards he had been showing them. "What is it?"

"You know how the Slytherins are all weird about who's got Wizarding blood and who hasn't?" Harry began.

"How could I forget?" said Sirius, rolling his eyes.

"Well, I was just wondering…" Harry shrugged. "I know my mother was Muggle-born. Did people ever, y'know…pick on her for that?"

"Yeah, they did," said Sirius darkly. "I went to school when Voldemort was first coming to power, you know, and that attitude, at least with Slytherin, was a very popular one to have, especially by the time your father and I were upperclassmen. People were being extremely rude to Muggle-borns like Lily. But she kept her head held high—she had a lot of self-respect, and she wasn't about to let any old stupid pureblood supremacist get under her skin. James defended her all the way, too. Treated her like a goddess, he did."

"So did a lot of people sign up to work with Voldemort?"

"Of course," said Sirius. "I don't know if all of them knew what they were actually signing up for…Exhibit A, my own brother, Regulus."

Harry paused, then voiced the next question that had popped into his mind.

"Sirius, do you…" Harry swallowed. "Do you ever…miss him at all? Do you wish you could've been closer?"

"I don't know," Sirius said quietly, shoving his hands into his pockets. "I suppose I can't say I don't, but at the same time I can't say I do…maybe I just miss the person he could have been."


	45. Hogsmeade

"Well, it's another Hogsmeade weekend." Ron sighed and looked out the window, where snow was falling. It was Thursday, right after Charms, and he, Harry and Hermione were hanging out in the common room before their next class.

"We're too young to go, you know that, Ron," Hermione told him. "We can't go until third year."

"Besides, the snow's too thick, anyway," said Harry. "Not to mention Christmas Break is in about a fortnight. Have you picked out all your gifts?"

"Ah, I'll find something," said Ron, who was stressing out about how much homework the teachers were giving them before the holidays. Sirius's Defense Against the Dark Arts, Quirrell's Defense Against the Dark Arts, McGonagall's Transfiguration, Flitwick's Charms, Snape's Potions…it all seemed too much!

"I _never_ got this much homework in primary school," said Harry. "It's exhausting."

"Oh, as long as you keep on top of things, it's not so bad," Hermione told him, beaming. Harry knew she loved doing her schoolwork. "It's much better than ordinary, non-magic homework, too, isn't it? Besides, part of the reason the teachers assign so much homework is because now that we're older, we can handle more."

"Yeah, well, I'm sick of it!" Ron burst out. "Just because we had our birthdays doesn't suddenly mean we have to have all this…this _responsibility_ thrown on us!"

Ron spat out the word "responsibility" like it was poison.

"Hear, hear," said Harry.

"Come on, you two, all you need to do is work hard and you'll get it done," she reassured them. They both groaned. Harry knew now, he did love Hermione. But her work ethic wasn't something he could emulate.

…

"Sirius, have you done your Christmas shopping?" Harry asked. It was the next day, Friday, and Harry hung back to talk to Sirius after Care of Magical Creatures class, which he had taken to doing.

"No, I haven't," Sirius said casually. "But, as usual, I'll do it all in one day, so I'm not worried."

"You do all your Christmas shopping in one day?" Harry said incredulously.

"I'm a man, what do you expect?" said Sirius. "Hogsmeade is kind of like a…what did you call it?"

"Shopping mall?"

"Exactly." Sirius nodded. "Stores of every kind, just right for Loved Ones of every kind."

"I wish I could go to Hogsmeade," Harry said longingly, thinking of the famous wizard village. "But I'm too young."

Sirius grinned mischievously.

"Come with me," he said.

…

Sirius and Harry approached a statue of a one-eyed witch. Sirius was paying close attention to his Marauders' Map, which apparently he carried everywhere. After making sure nobody else was around, Sirius drew his wand. Harry flinched, but Sirius tapped the statue of the witch instead.

" _Dissendium_ ," he recited, loudly and clearly.

To Harry's shock, the witch opened to reveal a tunnel through which a thin person could fit. Sirius had been gaining weight since Azkaban, but he was still quite thin, and even though Aunt Marge was horrible, Harry reckoned she was right about him having a "mean, runty" look.

"Where does this tunnel go?" Harry asked in shock.

"It leads into the cellar of Honeydukes," Sirius told him. The two of them crawled through the tunnel for a long time, until finally they reached a trapdoor, which opened into the cellar. Sirius wiped the Map ("mischief managed") then lifted the trapdoor up slowly, peering around.

"It's empty!" he hissed down to Harry. "C'mon, give me a leg up."

Harry pushed Sirius's legs while Sirius placed his hands flat on the floor of the cellar, using his arms to pull himself up. Once he had hoisted himself out, he kneeled on the cellar floor and reached his hand through the trapdoor, looking down into it.

"All right, Prongslet," he said. "Give me your hand."

Harry stuck his hand out. Sirius grabbed it, pulled hard, and soon enough both of them were on the cellar floor.

"Now what do we do?" Harry whispered.

"Just walk up the cellar steps and into the store," Sirius explained. "Honeydukes is always so crowded. Nobody will know."

The two of them crawled up out of the cellar and into the store. Harry quickly shut the trapdoor. It blended perfectly into the floor. If one didn't know it was there, they would never find it.

"Nobody knows the castle and grounds as well as your dad and I did," Sirius said proudly. "They hold many secrets."

Harry was looking up at his godfather in admiration; Sirius really was the only part of Harry's father Harry really had left.

Sirius and Harry exited Hogsmeade and walked out onto the snowy streets. They were both wearing their cloaks, but Sirius took off his cloak and gave it to Harry so Harry could keep extra warm.

"But aren't you going to be cold, Sirius?" Harry asked, worried.

"I don't think so," said Sirius, and with a grin he transformed into Padfoot, who had plenty of shaggy fur to keep him warm. Harry laughed and they walked along, looking at the shops. Harry didn't care about getting a gift for his Muggle relatives, but he did want to get gifts for Ron and Hermione. Of course, he would need to get a gift for Sirius, too, but he couldn't pick that out when he was with Sirius. Then it wouldn't be a surprise.

"I'm looking for gifts for, um…my friends," said Harry, his face feeling a little hot despite the fact that it was a winter day. He put his cold hands up to his cheeks to cool them down. It was to no avail, though, because he knew Sirius took that to mean "Hermione". Sirius turned back to his human form.

"When I'm picking out gifts for people, I usually think about what they like," Sirius said as they walked along. "So tell me, what does Hermione like?"

"I-I don't know," Harry mumbled, hands in his pockets. Sirius bought gifts like jewelry for Barbara, but Harry had never seen Hermione wearing any jewelry other than a watch. She didn't even have her ears pierced.

"As a matter of fact, Harry, girls like it when you pay attention to them, remember things about them," said Sirius. "That includes what they might want for Christmas. So what do you think Hermione would like to get, more than anything?"

"Maybe a book?" Harry said uncertainly. "She likes to read."

The two of them entered a bookshop, where Harry found a huge, heavy book entitled _Famous Witches and Wizards Throughout History_.

"Good choice," Sirius said approvingly. "That'll keep her busy for a few Christmases."

After that they looked for a gift for Ron; finally, they settled on a pair of socks that screamed if they became too smelly. Harry picked up some Owl Treats for Hedwig, and vowed to come back for Sirius's gift. Sirius must have been of a similar mind, because he didn't pick out a gift for Harry. He got Barbara a beautiful set of seventeenth-century goblin-wrought silver earrings and a necklace to go along; the pendant was a key.

"The key to my heart," Sirius explained.

"Barf," said Harry.

Sirius got candy for Ron and a new quill for Hermione. Then they went back to Hogwarts the same way the left—through the cellar, then down the tunnel, and finally they emerged by the one-eyed witch. Sirius looked around again to make sure nobody was nearby.

"Sirius, you don't use that for regular mischief-making, do you?" Harry asked suspiciously.

"No, not so much anymore," Sirius told him. "But I sometimes glance at it to make sure you're okay, and other times I just want to see what people are doing. After all, the Map never lies."

Harry thought of his father and Sirius, plotting this map together, and then he thought of them sneaking up through the trapdoor into Hogsmeade at night, maybe in their animal forms, Remus enjoying the full moon instead of dreading it like he used to.

"What are you thinking about?" Sirius asked. Harry realized his godfather had been watching him.

"Just about you and my dad," Harry said quietly, "you know, going to Hogsmeade by stealth and everything. I bet I'm not as good at mischief-making as he was."

"You will be," said Sirius, giving him a hug. "And at the same time, you'll have Lily in there too, lecturing you and telling you to stop breaking so many rules."


	46. Winter Break

Harry and his friends were overjoyed when the snow finally fell halfway through December. Not only that, but it was also officially Winter Break, and the students who were staying at Hogwarts could all remain in their cozy common rooms by the fires, instead of going down into the cold dungeons…well, except the Slytherins, since their classrooms _were_ in the dungeons, but they probably had fires too, and either way, Harry didn't care if Malfoy and his lackeys were cold.

Sirius was excited that he would be able to see Barbara again.

"I've missed her a lot," he told Harry, Ron and Hermione, who were all staying for Winter Break. Harry figured a Christmas at Hogwarts would be the best Christmas he had ever had, Hermione didn't want to fly all the way to Hawaii and back (not to mention stay on an island, where the only way back was an airplane unless you wanted to row all the way across the Pacific Ocean), and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were visiting Ron's brother Charlie in Romania, so he was staying, too. Two weeks out of the three it would be just Harry, Ron, Hermione and Sirius; for one week, it would be Harry, Ron and Hermione.

Since he didn't have class anymore, Harry wanted to make the most of Winter Break in terms of Hermione. Thinking of his self-confidence, he knew he should tell Hermione he liked her, and if she liked him back, that would be fine…but what if she said she didn't like him back? Their friendship might be destroyed, this time for good.

"So, Ron," Harry said to Ron one day in their dorm room, the day after Sirius left. It was empty except for them, as their other three roommates had all gone home for Winter Break. "What would you do if you had a crush on a girl, and you told her you liked her, but she said she didn't like you back?"

Ron looked up from the book he was reading ( _The History of Wizard's Chess_ ).

"Why?" he said suspiciously. "You haven't got anyone in mind, have you?"

"No!" Harry said frantically— _nobody_ must know the secret. "I'm just _asking_ , that's all!"

"You're being defensive," said Ron.

"Who's defensive?" Harry demanded. "I'm not being defensive!"

"Uh, yeah, you are," Ron told him. "And anyway…I don't know, I guess I'd just tell her I was under a trance by a Dark wizard or something and I didn't mean it."

"Why would a Dark wizard put you in a trance just for you to tell a girl you liked her?"

"I don't know," said Ron. "That's the only thing I can think of."

"And you wonder why you don't have a girlfriend," said Harry jokingly.

"No, I don't wonder," Ron told him in a mock-sniffy voice. "I don't have a girlfriend because I don't _want_ one…Well, except maybe Holly," he added dreamily, his eyes misting over.

"You don't even know her last name," Harry pointed out. "Besides, she's probably got a boyfriend."

"No, she hasn't," said Ron. "I heard her talking to one of her friends, saying that boys her age are so immature, that they just want her for her body. She said she wanted to date a man who was older than she was, maybe experienced in fighting the Dark Arts, someone who was handsome, brave and strong, someone who was passionate about destroying evil. She's very against the Dark Arts, Holly is…"

"She wasn't talking about _Sirius_ , was she?"

"I don't think so." Ron shook his head. "She also said she wanted someone who was loyal to his family and cared about them—who might even risk his life for them, if it came to that—and Sirius definitely doesn't qualify there…and she said she wanted someone polite and subtle, too. There's no way she was talking about Sirius. Besides, she's a reserve for the Gryffindor team, so I bet she likes Quidditch blokes—and Sirius never played Quidditch for his House team."

"But who do you think she was talking about, then?" Harry asked.

"Probably nobody in particular," Ron replied. "I guess she just dreamed up her image of the perfect man and talked about it to her friends. She was tired of the boys here always staring at her breasts…not that I blame them. Those things are perfect."

"Oh, what do _you_ know about breasts?" Harry said, rolling his eyes. "What do you know about girls in general?"

"Nothing," said Ron, "but neither do you. We're deprived. All the witches in our year are just girls. But Holly…she's a _woman_."

Harry frowned. Even though he knew he could only love Hermione, he had to admit, Holly was kind of nice to look at.

"Sirius says that when a girl becomes a woman, more happens to her than just breasts," Harry told Ron, glad to know something Ron didn't.

"Like what?"

"Don't ask _me_ ," said Harry. "Ask Sirius."

 _"You_ ask him."

"No!"

"Fine, then." Ron rolled over onto his back. "I guess we'll never know."

…

Talking to Hermione was different than talking to Ron. Of course, he never brought up anything having to do with romance in front of her. They talked about normal things, like school, and the holidays, and Sirius…all kinds of different things. Hermione was smart, so she was always an interesting person to talk to.

"Do you think we should be studying?" she asked Harry one day as they ate in the Great Hall. Around them, everything was very pretty. There were twelve Christmas trees—three for each House. Earlier in December, Hogwarts had managed to procure a ten-foot-tall menorah (Sirius's idea), but since Hanukkah had ended on December 9 that year, it had been taken down weeks ago.

"I don't think so," Harry told her. "It's Winter Break, after all."

"Yeah, but I meant practicing DADA," Hermione explained. "You know, since Sirius's lessons have halted for the break, since so many students are going home for the holidays, and he's not here anyway."

"You know, you might have a point," Harry said pensively.

"And you're really good at Defense, too," Hermione added. "You kind of have a knack for it."

…

So in the days preceding Christmas Eve, Harry, Ron, Hermione and the other Gryffindors who were staying at Hogwarts practiced everything Sirius had taught them so far. (Ron was a little disappointed that Holly had elected to go home.)

Harry was especially good at Disarming people. It was kind of his special spell. It was a little harder for Harry to Summon things, so Hermione insist he work a little harder on that, and he did, because he would do almost anything she asked of him.

Everyone in Gryffindor was excited for Sirius to come back, which he had promised to do on Christmas Day. Their spirits high, Harry, Ron and Hermione had an amazing snowball fight on the grounds on Christmas Eve, joined by the Weasley twins. Harry and Hermione played against Ron and the twins, so they were losing spectacularly, but it was still fun.

"You want a snowball fight?" Harry taunted. "Well, I'll give you a snowball _war!"_

"Bring it on!" hollered one of the Weasley twins.

The Weasleys were still mopping the floor with Harry and Hermione when all five of them heard the roar of an engine behind them, a roar that was very familiar to Harry.

"Oy, Harry!" Sirius called, taking off his helmet. "Need some help?"

"Yes, please!" Harry called, just before he was smacked in the face with a snowball and knocked onto his back. Sirius helped him up, then threw a well-placed snowball at Ron, who fell over too.

Harry's team did much better with Sirius on their side. Both teams wanted him, in fact. Ron and Sirius traded places for a bit, and since it had mostly been the Weasley twins doing the winning thus far, Harry's team was still destroyed.

They continued their snow war until it got dark, and then they all went in, so they could eat dinner and warm up.

"You came early, Sirius!" Hermione said happily as they walked into the Great Hall, stomping their boots on the ground when they came in, so as not to ruin the floors.

"I thought I'd surprise you all," Sirius told everyone, his eyes gleaming. "Barbara doesn't mind. She's Jewish, you know, so she's just eating Chinese food with her family. It's the only thing that's open."

"Well, we're glad to have you back, Sirius," said Harry sincerely, giving Sirius a hug around the waist.

"I'm glad to be back," Sirius replied, separating from them to go to the High Table. "I missed Hogwarts dreadfully."


	47. Christmas

Harry was awakened on Christmas morning by Ron throwing a pillow at him.

"Oy! Wake up!" Ron shouted happily. "It's Christmas!"

Harry stared in shock at the foot of his bed. For the first time in his life he could remember, he had Christmas presents! He opened the first present, which was very small. It consisted of a note:

 _We received your message and enclose your Christmas present. From Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia_. Harry looked and saw that they had attached fifty pence to the paper.

"Why are they sending me a 'gift' at all?" Harry wondered aloud. "I don't live with them anymore, and they hate me."

"My mum knows a woman like that," Ron said through a mouthful of chocolate. "They're total enemies, but they give each other real insulting gifts at Christmas—like used dental floss and stuff like that—because giving someone a really lame gift is more insulting than no gift at all."

"I see," said Harry. Now the gift made a lot more sense. Ron craned his neck to see what it was.

"Weird!" said Ron when he saw it. "What a shape! This is _money?"_

"You can keep it." Harry tossed the coin to Ron. "Okay, I got one from the Dursleys…but who are the rest from?"

"I think I know who that one's from." Ron pointed to a lumpy present. "My mum. I told her you didn't expect any presents and—oh no, she's made you a Weasley sweater."

When Harry opened the present, he found an emerald-green sweater and some homemade fudge. After that, there was only one present left—but Ron and Harry's present-opening was interrupted when Hermione burst in.

"Merry Christmas!" she cried happily. She was holding two gifts, presumably her gifts for Harry and Ron.

"You too," said Ron, but Harry suddenly had a new worry—he had been expecting to see her at the feast this morning, not in his dorm! _Why_ did he have to wear his babyish reindeer pajamas this morning? _Why_ had he opted to take a shower in the morning as opposed to taking a bath last night? He probably stunk to high heaven! After all, he hadn't had a chance to brush his teeth yet, either…what a disaster!

Hermione, meanwhile, was looking around.

"You know, I think I finally understand why the founders allowed girls into the boys' dorms, but not vice versa," she said, wrinkling her nose. "No girl would ever _want_ to go into a boys' dorm."

"What do you mean?" Ron was now eating some of the fudge his mother had sent him.

"Well, for one thing, you have a ton of empty pizza boxes scattered everywhere," said Hermione, pointing. "You haven't even got pillowcases, and it smells awful in here—no wonder, you've got two piles of smelly, sweaty clothes on the floor."

"For your information, Hermione," said Ron in a matter-of-fact voice, "we use the Two-Pile System, wherein we separate our worn clothes into two piles—those we can wear again, and those which will get us sent to Madame Pomfrey for a lecture on hygiene—"

But he shut up then, because Harry was waving his hands frantically, and Hermione was looking revolted.

"Anyway," said Harry nervously, "did you get my present, Hermione?"

"Oh, yes, I loved it," she told him, tearing her attention away from the Two-Pile System. "Do you and Ron want your gifts?"

"Sure!" said Ron. "What'd you get us?"

"I got a box of sugar quills for you, Ron," Hermione said, tossing a present to Ron. "Because I know you'd like to eat candy in class."

"Awesome!" Ron tore open the present at once.

"And for you, Harry…" Hermione smiled. "I picked this up in the school bookstore."

She handed him a scarlet hoodie with a lion on the front. On the back was the word _Potter_.

"I got it custom-made," she explained. "It's a Gryffindor hoodie with your last name on the back. I expect you'll need it, since it's going to be so cold."

"Wow, thanks, Hermione!" Harry took the hoodie and made to put it on when he heard Hermione giggle, so he asked what was so funny.

"What's with the reindeer pajamas?" she asked, smirking.

"Oh, um…" Harry felt his face getting red. "Well, you see, uh…my dad was an Animagus, and he turned into a deer, which means I really like deer…and so I wore these deer pajamas because I thought…because I thought it would be like being with my dad on Christmas."

Harry thought this would sound stupid, but Hermione's eyes were glistening with tears.

"That is so _sweet_ , Harry!" Hermione cried, kissing Harry on the cheek and making him turn all shades of red. "You're so adorable! Well…I'm going to go get dressed. See you two soon, breakfast ends at eleven!"

Hermione beamed at them both and slammed the door shut behind her.

"I thought you were only wearing your old reindeer pajamas because your green ones are in the laundry," said Ron suspiciously.

"Oh, hush," said Harry, trying to hide his blushing face. "You don't know anything."

They were interrupted next by Sirius, who burst into the room as Padfoot, jumping on Harry and Ron and licking their faces. They laughed, trying to push him off. When he finally turned back into Sirius, wearing red Christmas robes with green lining, he grinned and said, "Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas," Harry and Ron chorused.

"Ah," said Sirius, taking a present out of his enchanted pockets and tossing one to Ron. Then he walked towards the two dirty laundry piles. "Using the Two-Pile System, are we, boys?"

"How do you know about the Two-Pile System?" Ron asked.

"Well, I was an obnoxious teenage boy once, wasn't I?" said Sirius, raising an eyebrow.

"Did you and my dad use it?" Harry asked.

"We would have, but Moony wouldn't allow it," Sirius replied. "He said he couldn't study when our dorm room smelled like the rear end of a goat."

Ron snorted with laughter. He had already torn open his present, which was of course candy, and he was eating it. Sirius walked over to one of the piles and picked up Ron's dirty, smelly Chudley Cannons T-shirt. He sniffed it, then pulled a face.

"Merlin, that's ripe," he said. "I'm guessing this is the hygiene-lecture pile, then?"

"No." Ron pointed at the pile next to it. " _That_ one is."

"Well...I guess I'm not the one sitting next to you in class," said Sirius, shrugging and crossing to Harry's bed. Harry felt the mattress sink slightly as he sat down on the end. "It's funny…boys actually sweat _more_ than girls, yet you never see girls doing stuff like this."

"Contrary to popular belief, you don't really need to take a shower every day or anything, y'know?" Ron was saying in between mouthfuls of Chocolate Frog. "You can just spray yourself every morning with body spray."

"Um, that's actually not true," said Sirius, the corners of his mouth twitching. "What _actually_ happens is, the sweat just mixes with the body spray, so you smell worse than ever."

"Huh," said Ron, looking shocked.

"Anyway…" Sirius rolled his eyes and pulled three more presents out of his pockets. "Harry, do you want your presents from me, Moony and Barbara now?"

"Of course," said Harry. The first present he unwrapped was Barbara's, because it was more brownies. Harry took a bite out of one; he hadn't realized how much he had missed their delicious taste. Next he opened Sirius's gift, but he was at a loss as to what they were. They looked sort of like black gloves. There was a helmet in the box, too. Ron seemed to recognize what Harry's present was.

"Dueling gloves!" he moaned, falling back onto his bed in envy. "You are _so_ lucky!"

"What are dueling gloves?" Harry asked.

"Gloves you use in a duel," Sirius explained, taking the gloves out of the box and fitting them onto Harry's hands; they were a bit big, but they soon shrunk magically to fit his hands. "They were your dad's. The padding on them blocks most unfriendly spells, and the part that covers your knuckles is as strong as steel. If you punch someone in the face with these on—well…"

Sirius set the helmet down on the bed. "Try punching this."

Harry punched the heavy steel helmet. He felt absolutely nothing.

"You probably won't ever need them for real, but I thought you'd like them," Sirius replied, setting the helmet on Harry's head. It was heavier than he'd thought, and hung over his eyes. "They'll come in handy during our hand-to-hand combat unit in Defense Against the Dark Arts, too."

"We're learning hand-to-hand combat?" Harry asked, pushing up the brim of the helmet so he could see properly. Sirius grinned at the sight.

"Yes, during the spring," he said. "You never know when you'll be stuck in a battle without your wand. Most wizards don't know squat about fighting without magic, so knowing how to fight with your fists can be advantageous."

"Thanks, Sirius," said Harry, hugging Sirius around the waist. Sirius hugged him back.

"You might need that helmet shrunken a bit too, though," he said jokingly.

Harry liked Remus's gift, too. Remus had gotten him a three-pack of Christmas-themed scented candles (gingerbread cookie, pine, and candy cane).

"That reminds me…" Harry was suddenly feeling guilty. "You got me such a great gift, and Sirius, I just couldn't find anything for you. I didn't know what you would like, and I wanted it to be something really special…so what do you want for Christmas?"

"I don't need a gift, Harry," said Sirius, putting his arm around Harry. "Just having you with me on Christmas is enough of a gift."

Harry didn't have anything to say to that. Ten years, ten Christmases, of knowing the Dursleys wished he wasn't there, getting him insult-gifts, and now…Sirius was happy just to have Harry here with him at all. All he could do was hug Sirius as tight as he could, knowing that his father couldn't have picked a better godfather in all the world.

When the hug was over, Harry noticed that Ron had nicked one of Barbara's brownies, and that reminded him of something.

"Sirius," he said, "what did Barbara give you for Christmas?"

"Well, as you know, I'm spending Christmas here, so on Friday the twentieth she invited me over to her apartment and cooked me a fantastic, romantic Christmas dinner with all my favorite foods. Then I stayed the night, and in the morning, we went to that place with the really good milkshakes."

"Don't forget the mozzarella sticks," Harry added.

"How could I?" Sirius grinned. "Anyway…have you two finished opening your presents? Or can I join you for the rest?"

"I've opened all mine," said Ron, "but Harry's got one left."

"I have?" Harry looked at the foot of his bed, and a small, light package was still there. He opened it, and something fell out of it.

"Oh, wow," Sirius breathed. "It's your dad's old Invisibility Cloak!"

"His what?" said Harry, picking up the Cloak, which almost felt like liquid in his hands.

"It's a Cloak that makes the wearer invisible, of course," Sirius explained. "Try it on and see."

Harry put the Cloak around his shoulders, and Ron yelled as Harry's body vanished. Only his head remained. Sirius looked pleased that Harry had the Cloak. Harry looked in the mirror and threw the cloak over his head, making him completely invisible. Something caught Sirius's eye, and he bent down.

"Hmm, it looks like you got a note," he said, picking the note up and giving it to Harry, who pulled the cloak off of him and read it.

 _Your father left this in my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to you. Use it well. A Very Merry Christmas to you_.

"That's Dumbledore's writing," Sirius commented, looking closely at the gift-giver's note. "Wonder why he didn't sign it—I guess he just likes being mysterious. Anyway, I didn't know James left the Cloak with him…be that as it may…"

Sirius picked the Cloak up off the floor.

"With this and your Marauders' Map, I suppose you'll be capable of much more mischief-making, won't you?" he said, smirking. "Dumbledore's right. It is about time you got this."

…

The rest of Christmas day was even more fun than the morning. Needless to say, the feast was spectacular, surely even better than Barbara's dinner for Sirius. There were wizard's crackers, which gave you prizes when you opened them. Harry got tons of things in his, including a new Wizard's Chess set. Harry, Hermione, the Weasleys and Sirius had another enjoyable snowball fight on the grounds; then, they sat under their favorite tree and watched students ice-skating on the lake. Sirius told Harry a very funny story about how his parents had been "couple-skating" one winter and Sirius (not the best skater himself) had been flying along and knocked into them, causing all three to tumble backwards onto the ice.

Around nightfall, they all headed back to Gryffindor Tower for a mini-Christmas party, Sirius included. Ron was watching Holly, who (along with a few other seventh-year girls) had donned a form-fitting Santa's Helper outfit for the occasion. Hermione didn't go with them, because she had a book she wanted to return to the library. The party was going fine when Harry realized he had left his Wizard's Chess set in the Great Hall. He was just about to open the door to the portrait hole when it swung open and there was Hermione, looking surprised…but then she stopped short. She looked up, and her cheeks turned pink.

"Oh," she said. "Mistletoe."

Harry's heart nearly stopped as he looked up. Indeed, there was the plant, right above their heads.

"Y-You know the rule, don't you?" Hermione asked, a little awkwardly.

"Yes," Harry told her, feeling absolutely mortified. "We've…we've got to kiss."

"Well, I-I'm never one for breaking rules…" Hermione laughed nervously. It was probably only a few seconds, but it felt like hours as they looked into each other's eyes. It was awhile before Harry realized Hermione was waiting for him to do something.

But what was he going to do? He had never kissed a girl before! This was a disaster! When Sirius had talked to Harry in the Owlery that day—why had Harry not asked him how to kiss someone? Now it was too late…Harry tried to remember, as Hermione kept staring at him, all the times he had seen Sirius and Barbara kiss…but he couldn't do that! They had looked, sometimes, as if they were eating each other's faces! This was just one single, romantic kiss—their _first_ kiss, their CHRISTMAS kiss, and he COULDN'T ruin it!

In desperation, Harry thought back to the horrible soap operas he had watched at the Dursleys' and with Hermione. He didn't know whether to grab her shoulders or her cheeks or her waist. He just wished she would stop staring…God forbid, what if he missed her lips?

Finally—

"D'you…d'you want to just kiss me on the cheek, maybe?" Hermione asked hesitantly.

Harry swallowed.

"No," he said.

And before he could lose his nerve, he grabbed her shoulders, pulling her closer, and pressed their lips together for a split second. True, it was only a second, but it was a second filled with the knowledge that this was Hermione Granger he was kissing, no other; the thought caused his fingers and toes to be filled with the most delightful tingling sensation, and his heart flew.

When they had separated their lips, with a surprisingly loud (and awkward) smacking noise, Hermione grinned, and Harry was surprised to see she was blushing.

"Not bad," she told him, giving him another kiss, this time on the cheek. Before he could say anything more, she turned on her heel and positively bolted for the girls' dorms.

Harry, meanwhile, was stunned. He could feel his burning-hot face, but he couldn't feel his legs. All he could do was just keep rubbing the part of his face where Hermione had kissed, remembering the sensation of her lips on his own. Finally, somehow, he managed to stumble back to the chairs in front of the Gryffindor fire.

Sirius was there, reading the _Christmas Prophet_ , legs crossed. When Harry approached, he saw that his godfather had a very broad smirk on his face.

"Shut up," said Harry.

"I didn't say anything," Sirius said back, but it was obviously taking all his self-restraint to fight back a laugh.

"So we kissed!" Harry flopped into a chair. "Big deal!"

It _was_ a big deal, but he wasn't going to say that.

"Good thing there was mistletoe, then," Sirius said casually, raising the newspaper once more.

There was a pause. And then—

"You!" Harry exclaimed in outrage. " _You_ were the one who put the mistletoe over the portrait hole!"

"Yeah." Sirius was still grinning. "What are you going to do, call the police?"

"I hate you!" said Harry (although of course he didn't mean it). "I had to _kiss_ her! On the lips!"

"And you're complaining?"

"Well, I don't know _how_ to kiss! I didn't know where to put my hands or whether or not to close my eyes or how long it should last or whether I should—"

"You know what, kid?" Sirius leaned over and ruffled Harry's hair. "You make me laugh."

"What d'you mean?" said Harry irritably.

"Well, are you really complaining?" Sirius asked. "You got to kiss the girl you loved on Christmas, didn't you? Tell me that's not romantic."

"I guess it was romantic," Harry admitted. "And it did feel good. I-I've never felt anything like that before."

Sirius smiled. "I guess I made the right choice, then."

"And you really knew all along?" Harry said. "About me fancying her?"

"Well, yeah...Did I mention, you and your dad have the _exact_ same 'thinking-about-a-girl' face?" Sirius pulled a mock-gooey, romantic face, then laughed. "I could always tell when James was thinking about Lily, which means I can always tell when you're thinking about Hermione."

Harry frowned; he thought about Hermione a lot. But Sirius had been able to read James like a book. Was that why he seemed to be able to read Harry, too?

"Hmm..." Sirius smiled. "Did I ever tell you the story of your parents' first kiss?"

"Oh no, you haven't!" Harry straightened up right away. "Tell me! What happened?"

"Well, they first started going out in seventh year," Sirius began, "and it was at a Quidditch game, Gryffindor vs. Slytherin. I was commentating, and we were winning…"

 _Gryffindor was definitely flattening Slytherin, and James Potter was sure he had played a big part in it. He was scoring goals today like nobody's business. It was raining slightly, but he did not mind, for he could still see the goal hoops perfectly clearly._

 _There, in the stands, Lily Evans was cheering for him, something she never would have done even one year ago. Sirius and Remus were saying that she liked him back, but how to know for sure?_

 _James was snapped out of his thoughts by one of his teammates tossing the Quaffle to him; he quickly caught it. He could hear Sirius commentating down in the stands._

 _"Gryffindor in possession, James Potter has the Quaffle, can he make it? He shoots—HE SCORES!"_

 _The entirety of Gryffindor House cheered. James grinned at Lily, back in the stands with the rest of the crowd; she was jumping up and down in excitement. Cheering for him! Then he realized…if he was curious to see if she loved him back by now, there was really only one way to find out…_

 _James sped towards the stand on the broom, flipped himself upside down and—although he was now hanging onto the broom with his knees alone—grabbed Lily's shoulders and kissed her, right there during the middle of the game._

 _"Ah, here's a new development…Gryffindor Chaser James Potter decides to take some time out for a little snogging…"_

 _James had no time to concentrate on Lily's reaction, or on Sirius's commentary; the Quaffle had come at him again and he seized it under one arm as he flipped himself right-side-up again, grabbing onto the front of the broomstick with his other hand. He waved to Lily, who looked shocked, and shot another goal, just as the rain began to let up. And then…_

 _"GRYFFINDOR SEEKER HAS SEIZED THE GOLDEN SNITCH!" Sirius hollered. "SLYTHERIN IS PULVERIZED, 300-60! GRYFFINDOR WINS!"_

 _Beaming with triumph, James descended to the ground, along with the other thirteen players. Remus and Peter were standing under a big red umbrella, looking shocked out of their minds; Sirius was running down out of the stands to meet them, shaking his wet hair out of his eyes the way a great big shaggy black dog might. But James wasn't focused on the other Marauders right now. He was focused on the beautiful girl running straight at him._

 _"James!" Lily cried, her shoes splashing through the mud puddles the rain had left._

 _"Lily," James said calmly, placing one hand on her shoulder. "I have something to ask you."_

 _"What?" Lily raised one eyebrow._

 _"Will you go out with me?"_

 _There was a long pause for a second, in which hazel met green; then Lily gasped, "Does this answer your question?"_

 _It was the best kiss James had ever received. Kissing Lily wasn't the way he had imagined it to be; it was worlds better. It was as if time had stopped, and they were the only two people on Earth, surrounded by sunshine and rainbows and then—_

 _"Yes," James told her softly as their lips parted. "Yes, it does."_

 _With that, he lifted her up into his arms, bridal-style, and kissed her on the forehead. Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were all cheering wildly. James looked over at his friends—Sirius was grinning from ear to ear, Peter was looking as shocked as ever, and Remus had burst into tears. James winked at them, Lily saluted like a soldier to the entire stadium, and he carried her back to the castle._

"Wow," said Harry, once the story had ended. "Now that was romantic."

 **TO BE CONTINUED!**

 **Author's Note: Yes, I'm aware Harry didn't discover the Mirror of Erised. I'm going to put that in later. ;)**


	48. Snape and Sirius

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: VERY IMPORTANT! POTENTIAL SPOILERS ARE IN THIS CHAPTER. IF YOU THINK YOU KNOW WHAT THE SPOILER IS,** _ **PLEASE DO NOT POST IT IN THE REVIEWS**_ **. I** _ **PERSONALLY**_ **HAD A STORY RUINED FOR ME THAT WAY AND I DON'T WANT IT TO HAPPEN TO ANYONE ELSE. THANK YOU FOR YOUR CONSIDERATION. BEARING THAT IN MIND, PLEASE ENJOY THE CHAPTER.**

…

The next morning was a little awkward. Harry and Hermione, admittedly, talked more to Ron than they did each other, and he was a sort of messenger between them, although (to Harry's relief) he still seemed blind to Harry's love for Hermione, who was being a bit shy, not at all her normal self.

Harry was dead-set on never mentioning his Christmas kiss to Hermione ever again. If she mentioned it, that would be a different story. But he would never initiate a conversation about "us". Even Sirius had seemed anxious about it, with Barbara. Things had worked out all right for him (in fact, he checked the P.O. box in Hogsmeade every weekend for a letter from her) but Harry wasn't sure if it would be the same with Hermione.

January 6, 1992 was a Monday, a very special Monday, for that was when term started again. Sirius also planned to start up his Defense lessons again that day, too. Sirius's Defense Against the Dark Arts was soon every Gryffindor underclassman's favorite class. Upperclassmen were signing up too, including Holly, to Ron's delight. Everyone was delighted when Sirius announced they would be starting their next unit, which would be on Defensive Magic. Then, once they had mastered that, they would go on to Offensive Magic, and finally Hand-to-Hand Combat.

They had learned _Expelliarmus_ ages ago, so Sirius decided to teach them the Impediment Jinx. Students were made to run at each other, while the other tried to stop them using the jinx. Harry, despite being post-kiss, partnered up with Hermione. Sirius didn't do what some teachers did, which was pair up the good students with the not-so-good ones so no partnership would be a complete fail. This proved to be a bad idea when Seamus Finnigan set Ron's shoes on fire trying to use the Impediment Jinx on him.

"Okay, Seamus, you need more practice," said Sirius, putting out the fire with some water from his wand. "I have to put you with someone more experienced. Do you want to work with Holly?"

"But _I_ want to work with Holly!" Ron burst out, then clapped his hands over his mouth.

"I should work with Holly, because the teacher said I should!" Seamus shot back.

"You just want to work with her because she's the hottest girl in seventh year!" Ron accused, pointing his finger at Seamus.

"Just shut UP!" Holly snapped. "I don't want to work with either of you stupid boys! If you ask me, boys should all be locked up in cages until they turn thirty!"

She seemed to realize what she had said, then, and stared at Sirius, her olive-green eyes full of remorse.

"Um…sorry, Professor Black," she said humbly.

"No need," Sirius said, holding up one hand. "I certainly understand what you mean. If my friends and I had been locked up in cages when we were at school, I daresay Professor McGonagall would have a lot less gray hair."

Holly laughed weakly, then said, "I just wish boys would take the time to get to know me. Whenever I go on a date with a boy, he spends the entire evening talking to my chest. That's why I don't go on dates with boys anymore. They're all the same."

With that, she gave a sigh, and slowly left the common room. She opened the door to the girls' dorms, and then disappeared from sight.

Sirius did not look happy. He took out his wand and Harry felt himself pulled away from Hermione as the boys were separated from the girls. Sirius then waved his wand over by Seamus and Ron, who were moved magically to the front as if invisible hands were pushing them.

"Finnigan, Weasley, you should be ashamed of yourselves," he scolded, pointing his wand at them. They both took a step back. "Don't you know how to treat a woman with respect? It doesn't matter how hot you think Holly is, she still deserves to be treated like a person, not an object. No woman is a prize to be won. You think it's okay to just talk about her like she's not there? If you want to stare at the female form in all its glory, go to an art museum."

"And how was your little fling with Barbara different, then?" Ron said accusingly.

"Because we were both consenting adults, that's how," Sirius snapped. "Stop bothering Holly."

Sirius took his attention off Ron and Seamus for a moment, then addressed the group of boys as a whole.

"Young wizards, I want you to take note of what happened here tonight," he said loudly. "There is a proper way to treat a lady. Girls aren't going to be impressed if you go thinking with the wrong head, if you know what I mean—so stop acting like the Neanderthals you are and shape up. That's how you get the girl."

"I thought women only care about what's in a man's pants," said an upperclassman, rather obnoxiously, Harry thought. Everyone stared.

"Awkward," said Hermione.

"I meant what's in the _back_ of his pants," he clarified. "You know, his wallet."

"Still awkward," said Hermione.

"You know, that could've been funny," said Sirius, frowning, "but it's all in the timing, you know?"

…

Ron's crush on Holly didn't seem to go away, but he did stop talking about her. Harry could tell he was still smarting from the reprimanding Sirius had given him about not knowing how to treat a woman. However, Sirius's little speech seemed to have cemented the Gryffindor girls' belief that he was their perfect man, and during the entirety of many Care of Magical Creatures classes, Sirius was the one being stared at. Harry advised him to keep wearing robes and never show off his motorcycle or biker gear, because if he did, the girls would be breaking down his door next.

That Saturday, Sirius used the Honeydukes shortcut to get into Hogsmeade. He came back soon after, looking quite different. All the color had left his face, and his eyes seemed overbright. He kept running his hands through his hair, a sure sign he was stressed out.

"Did you get a letter?" Harry asked him.

"No," Sirius said nervously, "I didn't. But listen—I'm going away to see Barbara this weekend, all right? I just want to…I want to see why she didn't write me a letter."

"She's probably just busy," said Harry. "What's wrong with you? Why do you look so worried?"

"I'm not worried!" Sirius said abruptly. "I'm just…well, she _said_ she would write to me, that's all! If she's fine, I'll fly home again! Now quit checking up on me!"

Sirius stomped off, shoving his hands into his pockets as he went, continuously tossing his hair out of his eyes.

"What's with him?" said Ron, who was approaching.

"Well, apparently he's worried because Barbara said she would send him a letter, and she didn't," Harry told him. "Weird, though…I told him she's probably just busy…"

…

Sirius must have come back very late Sunday night, because Harry didn't see him all for the rest of the weekend, but he was sitting at the High Table again come Monday morning. Harry noticed he wasn't eating anything. He looked pale, and a little thinner. This concerned Harry, because even though Sirius had gained weight since Azkaban, he still was far below what a normal man should be. All he touched was alcohol.

Tuesday night, around seven, Hermione had gone to the library for some late-night studying. Even though Harry liked Hermione very much, he could not stand the thought of any more studying, and Ron seemed to be of a similar mind. So since curfew wasn't for another two hours, they decided to roam the grounds.

Walking around, holding their cloaks tight against the wind, they were admiring how beautiful the snow looked at night when Harry saw something up ahead. It was so hard to see, the object was so big and dark, but it was moving…Harry lit his wand, but put it out as soon as he did. The thing he had seen was a huge, shaggy black dog, stealthily making its way from the castle to the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

"Ron!" Harry hissed. "It's Sirius! Look!"

They looked at each other, and tore off after him, trying to be as quiet as they could and still keep the huge dog in sight. When they reached the edge of the woods, where Sirius transformed, they were in for a shock that was even bigger than Padfoot. Snape was waiting there.

"Why did you want to meet me here, Black?" Snape said in his cold voice.

"Because…because…" Sirius frowned. "Because I need something from you."

"Not going to happen," said Snape.

"Please!" Sirius begged. "It's not for me, it's for someone else! I-I just need a potion…but it's N.E.W.T. level, and I don't think I'm up to making it."

"I'm not saying I'll do it," Snape told him quietly, "but what exactly is it that you need?"

Sirius looked embarrassed all of a sudden. He looked rather like a child who had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"Potiogravida," he mumbled.

Suddenly a look of horrible comprehension dawned on Snape's face.

" _Who?"_ he hissed.

"Nobody you know!" Sirius said quickly, waving his hands. "It's just…she's doing horribly, Snape, and I think this potion will really help…I mean, I already told her about it and everything…"

"But wouldn't she already—oh good grief, Black, it's another Muggle, isn't it?"

"She's not an 'it'!" Sirius snapped. "I don't want to date a witch!"

"Be that as it may," said Snape, rolling his eyes, "I don't see why I have to help your pathetic Muggle playmate. It's not my fault she has utterly horrible taste in men."

"I resent that!" said Sirius, but then he turned somber. Even in the darkness, Harry could see his eyes glowing. That look Azkaban had given them seemed to have been going away, but now it was coming back. Sirius ran his hand through his hair again. "Look…I know you don't like me, Snape…I can deal with that…but why should Barbara have to pay for what I've done?"

Snape pursed his lips.

"Come on, Snape, I know you're not heartless, I know it," Sirius begged. "She couldn't even write the damn letter herself, her _godmother_ had to send it to me, and it was bad, I saw it! She can't keep her food down, she hadn't taken a shower in days, she can barely even get up off the couch…It's—it's a matter of life or death!"

"How?" Snape snapped. "Plenty of Muggles get it and survive. They just don't have a way of making it easier like our kind do."

"No, Snape, you don't understand!" Harry was sure he could see tears glistening in Sirius's eyes now. "It is in Barbara's case, you—you see…"

And he whispered something in Snape's ear. Something that seemed to be killing him, terrifying him. Snape's expression changed, but Harry couldn't read it.

"Well, God forbid, but if she does…" Snape was barely moving his lips now as he spoke. "You know it won't be your fault."

"But it _will_ be my fault, Snape," Sirius said desperately, and Harry half-expected him to fall to his knees in pleading. "I'll hate myself every day for it because whether it's my fault or not, I'll never be able to live with myself if I can't stop it…Just one more life, one more loss, I just can't stand it, I can't bear it—you can understand that, can't you?"

"So you mean, you're happy?" Snape was frowning. "You—you _want_ this, with her?"

"Yes," Sirius told him, mopping his eyes with his sleeve. "I'd have to be a real son-of-a-Bludger to leave her right now, when she needs me the most—"

Snape took a deep breath and held out his palm to cut Sirius off.

"Fine," he muttered. "I'll make you a cauldron full of the potion. Three drops in the morning and three at night, got that? It only takes a couple of days to mature."

"Bless you," Sirius said (to Harry's shock), and he started pumping Snape's hand, which was probably all cold and clammy, but then, Sirius's probably was, too. "Thank you, thank you so, so much…"

"Enough!" Snape yanked his hand away. Harry noticed how he looked extremely uncomfortable. "I would like to return to being nemeses now…I don't like you this way."

"Fine," said Sirius quietly. He was just about to turn away when they were interrupted by Hagrid, the gamekeeper.

"Sirius," said Hagrid, clapping Sirius on the shoulder so that his knees buckled. "Yeh aren' lookin' too good…Want a cuppa?"

"Yes, please," Sirius said anxiously. "I hope you've got something stronger than tea, mind you."

"Yessir," said Hagrid, "I just got some fresh firewhiskey, got it in the Hog's Head, it ain' even legal in Britain—"

"Let's go." Sirius was about to pull Hagrid away, but…

"Oh, yes, such a fine example for the students you are," Snape said sarcastically. "Carelessly drinking away your troubles while your dear Muggle girlfriend suffers back home."

"Ah, Sirius, I shoulda known!" boomed Hagrid, slapping Sirius on the back and therefore inadvertently knocking him onto the ground. "Yeh always liked Muggle women, didn' yeh?"

"Hagrid," said Sirius, getting up and brushing himself off, "this is the _real deal_."

"Oh, it is," Snape added nastily, his eyes gleaming in a sinister way. "More than you know, Hagrid."

"Ah, hello there, Severus," said Hagrid, turning his attention to Snape. "Got yer potion defense all finished? Fluffy's doin' well—"

"Hagrid!" Snape hissed, pointing to Sirius, who looked bewildered now.

"What are you talking about?" Sirius asked.

"Nothin'," said Hagrid firmly. "Sorry, Sirius, but that's classified. It's between Dumbledore and Nicholas Flamel."

Snape slapped himself in the forehead.

"Really, Hagrid?" he snapped.

"Eh, how about that cuppa, Sirius?" Hagrid said uncomfortably, tugging at his collar.

"No, he's right, I'd better not," Sirius replied dismally, looking towards the castle as he said it. "I'm just going to head back to my teacher's quarters and get some rest."

Sirius began to trudge off, then turned to Snape.

"Please, don't say anything!" he hissed. Snape scowled and gave the slightest of nods, and Sirius set off. Harry and Ron didn't want to run into him, so they sped up to Gryffindor Tower and up to their dorm room. It was quite empty, so they were able to discuss what they had heard.

"What was _that_ all about, do you think?" said Ron.

"I don't know," said Harry. "Who's Nicholas Flamel? And what's Potiogravida?"

"I've got no idea who Nicholas Flamel is, but I've heard my mum mention Potiogravida," Ron said, thinking. "I just can't remember what it does…It's supposed to heal something, I know that…"

"Well, obviously," Harry told him. "Sirius said Barbara was in a _life-or-death situation_. She must be deathly ill. No wonder he looks so worried."

"You mean she's got something fatal?" Ron's eyes widened.

"Yeah, most likely," said Harry. "Barbara's a Muggle, remember. It's probably something Muggles don't know how to treat, and usually kills them, but there's a potion for it in the Wizarding world, so she can get cured, and Sirius needed Snape to make the potion!"

"But I don't know of any conditions like that," Ron said. "Lots of Muggle illnesses, like colds, can be cured by potions, but I don't think there's a potion that can cure anything fatal. What if Barbara's a dead woman walking?"

"According to Sirius, she barely _could_ walk," Harry told him morosely. He didn't know what to make of this. Sure, he didn't exactly love Barbara, but he didn't hate her guts, and either way, he never wished for her to die. And if she died, Sirius would be unhappy, like he said, even if it wasn't his fault.

 **-to be continued-**

 **IF YOU ARE ABOUT TO POST A SPOILER, PLEASE THINK TWICE! READ THE NOTE AT THE TOP! THANK YOU FOR BEING A CONSIDERATE COMMUNITY MEMBER AND NOT SPOILING THINGS FOR EVERYONE LIKE SOMEONE DID TO ME! THANKS!**

 **P.S. Potiogravida is a potion I invented myself, as in, it's not from the books, so you're not going to find it on the Internet.**


	49. Research

Harry was sure Hermione would know what Potiogravida was and what it healed, but as the night went on he and Ron got to discussing Nicholas Flamel instead. They inferred from what they had heard from the conversation between Sirius, Snape and Hagrid that this Nicholas Flamel had something to do with the You-Know-What that was being guarded in the Forbidden Corridor.

"I mean, now we know why it's forbidden," said Harry. "But don't you think Dumbledore could have just locked whatever it is up in his office? Wouldn't that take less time than setting up all these defenses?"

"Well, yeah," Ron agreed. "But my dad says Dumbledore's mind works in strange ways."

"I would know," Harry told him, remembering how Dumbledore had tried to make him stay with the Dursleys.

Eventually they had to go to sleep, but the next morning they mentioned Nicholas Flamel to Hermione, hoping she would know who he was. Unfortunately, she didn't. But she said they could go to the library and see if they could look him up.

As they browsed the books in the library, Harry felt that Sirius probably knew who Nicholas Flamel was, and what he had done to get himself into a book, but he didn't want to mention it. He knew that if he mentioned Flamel's name to Sirius, his godfather would figure out his conversation had been overheard. Sirius flew to London again the next weekend, Harry assumed to give Barbara the potion.

For the next couple of weeks, there was no luck with Nicholas Flamel, and there wasn't a word from Sirius on what was the matter with Barbara; Harry assumed Sirius wasn't saying anything so as not to worry him, although this was quite counterintuitive as Sirius's appearance these days would concern anyone who looked closely. He never seemed to have real color in his cheeks; his eyes had a horrible sort of helpless appearance, and they were slightly red around the rims. He was definitely thinner, and more often than not he smelled unpleasantly of alcohol. Harry remembered Remus telling him Sirius would often start drinking once something stressed him out, even back in their school days.

Harry thought the potion would heal Barbara, but if it had, this hadn't elicited a change in Sirius's looks or behavior. Maybe it wasn't working. Could Sirius and the potion have been too late? Surely Sirius would tell him if Barbara was actually gone. Maybe it was because he hadn't seen her in a long time, or maybe it was because she was ill, but Harry found himself feeling sorry for all the times he hadn't been so happy with Barbara. Before she died, he would have to see her again. But since he didn't want to really think about this, he focused on Nicholas Flamel instead.

"You know, I bet Sirius could give you a permission slip to look in the Restricted Section," Hermione said, pointing. "Maybe Flamel is in there."

"But still, I don't want him to know we were eavesdropping," Harry insisted.

"You don't need to," Hermione told him. "Just mention the name of the book you need. He doesn't have to know why."

Harry didn't like the idea of hiding things from Sirius. Before Harry came to Hogwarts, they had been able to tell each other anything. But then, Sirius was obviously hiding something huge from _him_ …

"Let's do it," said Harry. He got up and walked to the Restricted Section of the library, looking all around at the books. They were much more mysterious than the non-restricted books. Their titles were in languages Harry couldn't understand. Some had no titles at all. They contained, Harry knew, Dark Magic, or at least some of them did. They were only studied by older students studying very advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts. And speaking of older students…

"Hi, Harry," said a voice from behind Harry, and he turned. There was Holly, her medium-length brown hair styled into a French braid. She was smiling.

"Oh…hi, Holly," said Harry. "Listen…I just want to apologize for how Ron and Seamus treated you. It's like you said, they can be immature. Sirius chewed them out for it."

"So I heard," said Holly with a wry grin. "My roommates wouldn't stop talking about it. But don't you apologize. You're great to your girlfriend—Hermione, I think her name is?"

"Oh, no, she's not my girlfriend," Harry said, his cheeks feeling hot. "We're just friends, that's all…"

"Are you sure?" Holly's olive-green eyes were gleaming.

"I'm sure," Harry said, making sure not to look at Hermione _or_ Holly.

"If you say so." Holly shrugged. "I wish it was that easy for me. Sometimes I think of just swearing off guys altogether…maybe become a crazy cat lady or something."

"Maybe you just need a better screening process," Harry suggested awkwardly.

"If I raised my standards even a little bit, no guy I know would make the cut." Holly frowned. "I don't want a man my age, you know? I want someone older, someone with a lot of experience fighting the Dark Arts. Not like Sirius, that would be weird…I mean, he _is_ my teacher. But someone like him. And I don't know if you know this, but I'm a reserve for the Gryffindor Quidditch team—"

"I knew," Harry told her. "R—someone told me."

"Well, I'd really like to date someone who played Quidditch," she said, smiling dreamily. "That's what I'd really like. I've been flying since I was around six, but until I got to Hogwarts, I never really had anyone to do it with."

"Since you were six," said Harry. "So you grew up in a wizard family?"

"Yeah, my surname is Greengrass," Holly told him.

"Greengrass…" Harry frowned at a name that sounded slightly familiar. "Any relation to Daphne Greengrass? She's in my year, but in Slytherin."

"Daphne is my cousin," said Holly, rolling her eyes. "But we don't get along so well. She's more Traditional Pureblood, and I'm Reformed Pureblood, like Sirius. I mean, how else would I be in Gryffindor? I just wish I could get Daphne to see the error of her ways somehow."

"I don't think Traditional Purebloods _ever_ see the error of their ways," said Harry, thinking of Malfoy and his family.

"Well, I wouldn't date a Traditional Pureblood," Holly replied. "I would date a Reformed Pureblood, but not a traditional one. Besides, why do I even keep talking about this? I know the perfect man doesn't exist—come to think of it, the perfect woman doesn't exist either—"

"Hermione is my perfect girl," Harry said without thinking. Once he realized what he had said, he clapped his hands over his mouth and looked wildly over his shoulder, hoping she wouldn't notice him looking.

"Relax, she didn't hear." Holly laughed. "I guess that's why they call it a crush, isn't it?"

Harry shrugged, feeling humiliated.

"Don't worry," Holly told him. "Listen. After the years go by, you might realize Hermione's not quite as perfect as you think she is. But that's okay, because the best kind of love isn't about finding someone who's perfect in every way. It's about finding someone who's flawed, but still a good person, and loving them anyway."

Holly smiled at Harry, looked around the shelves for a moment, then pulled a heavy, mysterious-looking tome off the shelves.

"What's that?" Harry asked.

"It's _Most Potente Potions_ ," she explained. "I need it for my N.E.W.T. level Potions class."

This made Harry think of something…

"Potiogravida wouldn't be in there, would it?" Harry asked her nervously.

"Why would you be interested in that?" Holly raised an eyebrow.

"Well, I heard Snape mention it, and I just thought maybe it would be in there."

"Oh, no, Potiogravida is a healing potion, and it's been around for about three hundred years now," Holly told him, shaking her head. "Over the years it's been developed to become completely safe, even for Muggles. Something that harmless wouldn't be in here. You've got the real hardcore stuff in this book. Just look at the pictures."

Holly was about to open the book and show Harry the pictures when her friends called out for her. She shut the book then, and smiled.

"Well, nice talking to you, Harry," she said pleasantly, and ran off.

"Wait, Holly!" Harry called. "What does Potiogravida _do?"_

But she was gone.

…

They had already been halfway through January when Sirius had found out about Barbara. Now they were finishing the whole month up and still nothing on Barbara, nothing on Potiogravida and definitely nothing on Nicholas Flamel, which was what they were mainly focusing on. Harry had gotten a permission slip from Sirius, but a teacher's permission slip to the Restricted Section only let a student check out one specific book—it wasn't a free pass to the whole section. And the book they had picked was a no-go.

"I don't know where Nicholas Flamel is, Harry," Ron said, exhausted. It was Saturday morning, and Harry knew he would rather be eating breakfast than researching. "I reckon Hermione's right. You should just go ask Sirius."

"Well…fine." Harry sighed. "I suppose I haven't got any choice, have I?"

So he ran to Sirius's teacher's quarters and knocked on the door, not without some trepidation. When the door opened, Sirius was looking awful. Harry winced when he inhaled; Sirius reeked of drink.

"Sirius, you aren't drunk, are you?" he said.

"No, just a bit buzzed," Sirius replied miserably. "I only had a few. What do you need?"

"I just wanted to ask you about a name I...um, heard Professor McGonagall mention," Harry began, trying to throw Sirius off track. "Do you know who Nicholas Flamel is?"

Sirius pursed his lips.

"You know, that name does ring a bell," he said, stroking his unshaven chin. "I just can't remember where I've heard it…I've read it somewhere…Nicholas Flamel…"

They were interrupted by a knocking on the door. Harry was surprised to see none other than Hagrid.

"Hello, Hagrid," said Sirius. "What do you need?"

"I was wonderin' if yeh could help with the tail severin' of the Cruppies," Hagrid said. "I-I'm not supposed ter to do magic, see, and I don' trust nobody else with 'em—"

"Can't it wait?" said Sirius, gesturing to Harry. "We're talking."

"Sorry, but Professor Dumbledore thinks we're gettin' it done right now."

"Fine." Sirius stood up. "Harry, you stay here, a simple Severing Charm shouldn't take long…I'll be right back."

"Okay," said Harry, watching as the door slammed shut behind Sirius and Hagrid. Only when he turned around did he notice it. He had only heard and read about them, but he knew what the magical object before his eyes must be.

It was a Pensieve.


	50. Memory

Harry had heard a lot about Pensieves, and he knew that you could go into them to view your memories or someone else's. But how did one do that? Harry approached the Pensieve and looked into it. All he could see was a sort of cloudy, liquid-like substance swirling around.

Should he go into Sirius's memories? Obviously, that would be wrong, and he would be back from the Cruppies' tail-severing at any moment. But Harry just _had_ to know what was bothering his godfather, and it didn't seem right to just…ask, not least because Harry feared that if he did, he would let slip that he overheard the conversation with Snape. It would be best to just view the memory as it was, then maybe Sirius could tell the truth on his own later.

Harry poked the substances in the basin with his wand. They began to swirl faster, and finally revealed a clear picture, as if from an aerial view. Sirius was standing in front of an unfamiliar (to Harry) door. He flicked his wand once, producing a bouquet of red, white and pink roses; then he pocketed the wand, and nervously knocked three times.

Even before the door was answered, Harry knew whose flat this must be, and he was right, he found, as Barbara opened the door—except she was barely recognizable as Barbara at all. Her long dark hair, usually so sleek and shining, seemed to have been tangled into one big, permanent snarl; she was wearing a ragged purple bathrobe and pink slippers. She had dark circles under her eyes, like Remus did, and no makeup, which was out of character for her. Overall, she looked exhausted and very ill, just like Harry had imagined. But when she saw Sirius, she also looked surprised.

"Sirius…?" she breathed. "W-What are you…"

"Your godmother sent me a letter," he told her quietly. "I know all about it."

"Oh, honey…" Barbara's bloodshot eyes were now filling with tears. "I-I'm so sorry."

Sirius just shook his head and put his hand on her shoulder. "Is it all right if I come in?"

Barbara nodded and led him inside her flat.

Harry squinted his eyes. Sirius and Barbara were so hard-to-see. He looked down, Maybe if he leaned in closer…Before he knew it, his nose had touched the fluids in the basin, and he had fallen right into the memory. Looking around, it was as if he was inside the flat. Now he knew what Sirius meant by reliving memories in a Pensieve as if you were there. He only hoped Barbara and Sirius wouldn't start snogging…but they probably wouldn't, he thought, looking at the squalid sight that was Barbara, and feeling guilty.

"I still want to know," Barbara began rather weakly, "what—"

"What took me so long?" Sirius finished anxiously.

"No," said Barbara, looking mildly taken aback. "I wanted to know what—what you're _doing_ here."

Sirius was now the one to look shocked. This clearly wasn't what he had been expecting to hear.

"Well, I would've come back earlier, but you know, I only have time to check the P.O. box on Saturdays," he told her. "I flew home the second I got your godmother's letter. Did she…did she not tell you she was writing me?"

"No." Barbara looked disgruntled. "She didn't tell me."

"Well, from the looks of it, I'm guessing she didn't tell you because she knew you would protest." Sirius stood up a little taller and put his hands on his hips. "But I just don't understand…Why wouldn't you want me coming home to see you?"

"What did Catie say in the letter, exactly?" Barbara asked shrewdly.

"Not much," Sirius began. "Basically she just said you were feeling poorly and that it wouldn't be right if I was kept in the dark about things."

"Of course she did." Barbara seemed relieved.

"Why?" Sirius asked her. "Was there something else she didn't mention?"

No answer. Barbara crossed her arms and stuck out her lip, looking as if she might cry.

"Barbara," Sirius said strictly.

"Oh, all right then," she mumbled. "Come and sit on the couch, though, okay?"

Sirius followed her mutely over to the couch where they both sat down. Barbara was still finding it difficult to speak, it seemed, but Harry was hanging on every word of this conversation, although he wasn't any closer to figuring out what was going on between them and what on Earth was the matter with Barbara.

"What is it, love?" Sirius asked, reaching out to put his hand on Barbara's shoulder again, but she jerked away as if by reflex. "What's the story here?"

"Well, it's just, I didn't want to tell you about this because…" Barbara closed her eyes and inhaled sharply. "Because it's happened before."

"It's—it's _what?"_

"Yeah," she said miserably. "Back when I was twenty-one and still living with my parents."

Sirius looked wildly around the flat. "But—but you haven't got—"

"I know," she said darkly. "You still want to know?"

But when Harry heard what Sirius said next, he forgot he was inaudible and both hands sprung to his mouth to muffle the gasp.

"Of course," Sirius said evenly. "I'm the baby's father, after all."

Some sort of explosion seemed to have taken place in Harry's brain. This was the _last_ thing he would have expected! Sure, he had thought about what it would be like if Barbara had a baby, but it was just that, _thinking_. It wasn't real life. Harry had never _really_ expected Sirius to have a baby with Barbara, and it would probably be a baby with magic powers on top of all that! Barbara wasn't ill; she was just pregnant!

"I suppose I've got to tell you," Barbara was saying. "But don't freak out."

Sirius nodded.

"So you know how I'm, well, not really that good at relationships?" Barbara began awkwardly.

"I'm not either," said Sirius, trying to be helpful.

"Okay, but listen, several years ago, when I was twenty-one, I was with this guy, Jackson," said Barbara. "We had been dating for about a year, he was a frequent customer at the retail store I was working in at the time. Jackson was the first guy I had ever really thought about the future with…but all that went up in smoke one day when I found out I was going to have a baby. I knew it was his, because even though I've been with more than a few guys, I've never gone out with more than one at a time. So I told him and…"

"How did he react?" Sirius asked, wincing, like he didn't want to know.

"I wasn't expecting him to be _happy_ , realistically," she replied. "I mean, we weren't ready for a baby, I knew that. But still…he didn't have to act like it was the end of the world, you know?"

"What d'you mean, the end of the world?"

"Well, there was much shouting from Jackson and very many tears from me." Barbara's voice was quiet. "It was really horrible, it was always horrible when he shouted like that…Then he told me I was going to go and get the pregnancy terminated—"

"But who's he to tell you that?" Sirius cut in, aghast. "Isn't that supposed to be your choice? Or at least something you'd decide together?"

"You'd think," Barbara told him. "But no. Oh, no. The second I told him I wasn't going to do it, he just walked right out on me and the baby, leaving us on our own."

"He didn't!" Sirius growled, and Harry noticed the lighting in Barbara's flat flickered a little. She looked around in interest, but he seemed not to notice. "Oh, I hope I meet that son-of-a-Bludger one day, just so I can have a go at him!"

"You wouldn't want to," Barbara warned. "He's a really big guy. You're about the same height, but strength-wise, after you were nearly starved to death in prison, I don't think you would really be a match for him in a brawl."

"Oh, believe me," said Sirius, and Harry knew Sirius wouldn't hesitate to curse Jackson. "There would be no foolish brawling."

"Anyway…" Harry had seen the ghost of a smile on Barbara's face when Sirius had come to her defense, but her face fell again as she reached the next chapter in her story. "Now, prepare yourself, okay? Because next up is my least favorite part of the whole story."

"Right," Sirius said, putting his hand on top of hers.

"Well, you know…did you know at eight weeks a baby's heart starts beating?" Barbara's eyes were now filling with tears. "I was there…in the hospital, and I heard it, it's sort of like _shoom-shoom-shoom_ , much faster than yours or mine…" Barbara swallowed. "And then…just two weeks later…there I was in the hospital again…and there was a bunch of blood and pain but—but there was no heartbeat, not anymore…"

And then she finally started to cry. Harry had never seen Barbara cry before.

"Oh, God…" Sirius seemed to be taking in all of what she was saying. "You mean, you…you lost the baby?"

Barbara nodded brokenheartedly.

"I-I did," she sobbed. "And…and my doctor says it's more likely to happen again, now that it's already happened once…that was why I didn't want to tell you, that and I thought maybe you wouldn't want anything to do with me, just like Jackson…"

"But I'm not like Jackson," Sirius protested. "I'll stand by you. I promise. I-I might not know what the hell I'm doing but at least I can try."

With that, he held her until he stopped crying. Barbara continued with her story when she had calmed down enough to tell it.

"Jackson ended up finding out," she told Sirius. "So he tried to get back together with me, if you can believe it. I told him he had his chance and he failed. He started shouting again—he never laid a hand on me, but I tell you, his shouting was far worse than if he'd just punched me in the face. So my father turned up at the door then and he actually did punch Jackson in the face, hard. Gave him a bloody nose. He tried to press charges but they were dropped. Then we never saw him again and…now, here I am, three years later, in the exact same situation."

"Barbara, you _aren't_ in the exact same situation," Sirius insisted. "You're _not_. I mean it. I'll never walk away, and I'll _never_ break your heart. I'll be the baby's father and you'll be the mother and…and if…if you do miscarry again…" Now there were tears in Sirius's eyes too, as he wrapped her up in his arms. "We'll get through it together."

Suddenly, different words of Sirius's were floating to the surface of Harry's mind. _It's a matter of life and death_ , he had said…and now, Harry realized, Sirius hadn't meant Barbara's life when he said that. He had meant the baby's life. And that potion must have something or other to do with pregnancy.

But he didn't get to hear, for that was when someone's hand clamped onto his wrist, he was pulled out of the Pensieve, and suddenly he was back in Sirius's teacher's quarters, staring at Sirius.


	51. Potiogravida

Harry hardly dared speak to his godfather. Sirius was completely pale, and one hand was placed over his eyes. His other hand clamped onto Harry's shoulder and turned him around.

"Go," he mumbled. "Just _go_."

"But—"

"I said, _go_."

"Sirius, I don't want to leave you like this," Harry protested.

"OUT!" Sirius yelled, and this time, Harry listened. He ran out of Sirius's teacher's quarters and slammed the front door behind him, leaning against it and panting for breath. Once he'd gotten the air back in his lungs, he ran all the way up to his dorm and lay in his bed, pulling the hangings closed around him.

Harry wasn't sure how long he stayed in his dorm. It was Saturday, so he didn't have class. Ron came in, wondering where he was, but Harry pretended to be asleep—he knew this was Sirius's secret to tell, not his, and he wasn't sure if he could trust himself not to say anything.

Around dinnertime, he heard knocking at his room door, so he pretended to be asleep again, but he stopped when he heard Sirius say his name.

"Y-Yes?" Harry said, poking his head nervously out of the hangings. Sirius looked terrible. Harry winced as a strong, now-familiar smell entered the room with Sirius—it seemed as if his godfather had taken Hagrid up on his offer for "tea".

"I just wanted to apologize for blowing you off earlier, I guess," Sirius said quietly, sitting down on Ron's four-poster.

"I'm sorry for looking in the Pensieve," Harry blurted out. "It's just, I knew you were hiding something and I was just really curious to know what it was…but I guess I should've waited for you to tell me."

"I would have preferred it that way, yes," Sirius said, frowning. "I like to think we had a good reason for keeping it a secret. You see, the further along Barbara is, the less likely she is to miscarry. So we were going to wait until the second trimester to tell anyone, because…"

"Because you didn't want me to be disappointed if she never reached the second trimester," Harry finished, suddenly understanding.

"Right." Sirius nodded, looking sad.

"So…are you really going to go through with it, then?"

"Harry, what do you take me for?" Sirius said. "Of course I am. It's the right thing to do—the _only_ thing to do. The problem is, I don't know if I can be a good father."

"What about me?" said Harry, leaving his bed and coming to sit next to Sirius. "You had lots of practice with me when I was a baby, remember?"

"But I think being the baby's actual father will be different," Sirius told him. "It's been the worst month. Barbara isn't having her morning sickness anymore but I'm still worried. Not just worried that she'll lose the baby again—but worried that I'll be the most horrible parent in the universe. I mean, look what _I_ had for a childhood! I don't even have a good example to follow."

"Your dad wasn't as bad as your mum was, though, was he?" Harry asked.

"No, not really," Sirius said thoughtfully. "But we weren't exactly close, either. We never really talked about anything important. He didn't shout at me or hit me like my mum did—but I grew apart from him over the years, too. But instead of fighting all the time…well, I guess we kind of just ignored each other's presence. He didn't approve of me, but he didn't have my mother's temper."

"Do you think he was upset about you going to prison?"

"He never knew." Sirius sighed. "By the time I was incarcerated, he'd been dead for two years already. He died when I was around twenty years old, just like Reg did."

"Your brother was the only member of your family you ever cared about, wasn't he?" Harry said quietly.

"Sometimes I think it's my fault for leading him astray," Sirius admitted. "We were closer when we were younger, you know, before we got Sorted and things really started to go downhill. In fact…one of my earliest memories is one about Reg, when I was about four. It was night and I was just about to fall asleep when I hear this soft knocking at my door. So I answer it, and there's little Reg, who had a nightmare or something and came to my room. I let him inside and I read him some stories from a book I had, _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_ , and I let him sleep in my bed. The next morning my mum found us curled up together on the bed like that, and she took a picture. I guess it's still in my old house somewhere. But either way…"

"You grew apart, too," said Harry.

"As I got older I felt James was more of a brother to me than Reg was." Sirius put his face in his hands. "You can imagine how I…how I regret that now…I mean, he may have been a Death Eater, but he was still my baby brother."

"Are you still taking those antidepressants?" Harry asked him.

"Yeah," said Sirius, taking his hands off his face. "Are you allowed to take more if you feel they aren't working?"

"No," Harry told him quickly. "You've got to ask your doctor before you do anything like that—why, you think they aren't working?"

"I thought they were," said Sirius, "until I knocked up Barbara. Then the nightmares started coming back."

"Oh," said Harry, wishing he could think of something more comforting to say.

"It was pretty awful," Sirius told him. "I dreamed I walked into the drawing room of your parents' old cottage. You were there, as a baby, and so were your parents and a younger version of me. But everyone was gray and made of stone. And they were just sitting there, staring…and I could hear these voices in the background, repeating 'Preserve the memories, preserve the memories', over and over again."

"I remember you had one the first time I slept over at your old flat," Harry reminded him. "That was about Azkaban, wasn't it?"

"Well…" Sirius paused. "No, it wasn't. Not that one."

"What was it about, then?"

"It was about when I was really little," Sirius said reluctantly. "Something that really happened, a long time ago. This is going to sound a little weird, but they had this bottle of blood, pure blood, that they kept in the drawing room—for all I know, it's still there. But the idea, I guess, is that it was Black family royal blood. So when I was young, about five or so, I was made to prick my finger and put my own blood in there, too, and I kind of put up a fight about it. Come to think of it, I don't know where my father was during all this, but my mother ended up putting a Freezing Charm on my hand and pricking my finger _for_ me, while I stood there, screaming and crying, and then she wouldn't take the Freezing Charm off or heal the cut after she was finished, just clouted me on the back of my head—and that hurt, since she had her huge emerald engagement ring. She took the Charm off and healed my hand the next morning, before the tutor came."

Harry didn't know what to say to a story like that. But perhaps he didn't have to say anything, because Sirius kept talking.

"I just know I'm going to be bad at this," he said helplessly. "I-I don't know what to do. I hate that. All I want is for everything to be all right, but I fear that one way or another, it won't be."

"It will be all right, Sirius," Harry reassured him, patting him on the arm. "It's like you told Barbara, we'll get through it together. And that…that Potiogravida stuff, it helped, didn't it? It's got something to do with pregnancy, hasn't it?"

"Potiogravida?" said Sirius. "It's a potion that's most well-known for taking care of morning sickness, but it's supposed to ensure a healthier pregnancy overall. I just hope it's enough."

"Fingers crossed," said Harry, holding up his hand to show Sirius his crossed fingers. Sirius smiled.

"Fingers crossed," he agreed, putting his arm around Harry.


	52. Potty and the Mudblood

Harry couldn't worry too much about his godfather and the baby, because once February rolled around he had a problem of his own—and its name was Valentine's Day. Harry figured he should ask Hermione to be his valentine, but he didn't know how. Valentine's Day was this Friday, though, in less than a week, and he needed to think of something.

Back in his Muggle primary school, they had Valentine's Day every year. Harry was very well aware that the only reason he got cards was because everyone in his class was required to give cards to everyone else. They each got an old shoe box and decorated it, then dumped valentines in each other's boxes. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia always bought a stack of store-bought valentines for Dudley to use, but Harry always had to make his own, saying things he didn't mean, because he had never really had feelings like that for anyone, and even if he had, he certainly wouldn't have said it in front of a whole class of kids who liked to bully him.

But apparently at Hogwarts they didn't do valentine boxes. If you wanted to ask a girl to be your valentine, you were on your own. Sometimes in class Harry would write love notes when pretending to take actual notes, but he knew he could never send any of them. He meant every word, but just thinking of Hermione reading one of his love notes was far too embarrassing.

On Friday morning, Valentine's morning, Harry tried to pretend like it was any other day. Ron didn't seem to notice anything different. But Harry noticed how a lot of the older students seemed to know what day it was.

"Know what day it is?" Harry asked Ron at breakfast, watching the cuddling couples.

"Friday?"

"No," Harry told him. "Valentine's Day."

"Gross," said Ron, and continued eating his bacon.

Harry had Potions that day, and it was incredibly boring. They had a test coming up, so Snape was having them all take notes as he reviewed the material. Hermione was busily scribbling down everything Snape said, but Ron was drooling and staring out the window, and Harry himself found his mind starting to wander. He started writing another note to Hermione, asking her to be his valentine, his best one yet—although he still felt he could never actually give the note to her. It was really getting good when suddenly he felt the paper snatched out of his hands.

"What's this?" Snape sneered. "Writing notes in class, are we?"

 _Oh no_ , _oh no_ , Harry thought. This couldn't be happening. It just _couldn't_ be. Harry watched with horror as Snape read what was on the paper. Maybe, Harry thought desperately, Snape would remember what it was like to be in love, and he wouldn't read the note in front of the class…but the awful smirk on Snape's face was telling Harry otherwise.

"What does it say, Professor?" Malfoy called out.

"Let's see," said Snape, clearing his throat, and Harry knew the worst was coming. "It says, 'Dear Hermione Granger. I love you, and I have loved you since the beginning of the school year. Your eyes are the lovely color of delicious Honeydukes chocolate, and you have the best smile I have ever seen on anyone. You are a beautiful girl, absolutely brilliant and an absolutely wonderful friend…'"

It got worse, but Snape kept reading. He paused after every sentence, too, just so the Slytherins could get in a good laugh. Malfoy was in tears, banging his fist on his desk, laughing so hard he couldn't breathe. Pansy Parkinson and Holly's cousin Daphne were giggling meanly.

Harry could feel Hermione (not to mention Ron) staring at him, but he wouldn't look at them. All he wanted was to evaporate as Snape kept reading his note. When he reached the end, the Gryffindors were all silent, and every Slytherin was laughing. Over and over again, Daphne Greengrass and Pansy Parkinson were chanting: "Potter and Granger, sitting in a tree! K-I-S-S-I-N-G! First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes a baby in a baby carriage!" Snape didn't try to stop them.

"Potter," said Snape nastily, "Potions class is neither the time nor the place for teenage romance."

Another loud gale of laughter from the Slytherins.

"Therefore I must take ten points from Gryffindor, and be grateful it isn't more." Snape rolled up Harry's love letter and tossed it in his fireplace. The Slytherins laughed again.

"I guess you won't be getting your letter, Granger!" Pansy Parkinson squawked. "Oh, wait—I guess you've heard it anyway!"

She nudged Daphne, who giggled again, and then all the Slytherins laughed harder than ever.

It was the worst Potions class Harry had ever had at Hogwarts, and that was saying something. Even though Snape eventually told everyone to "settle down", Pansy and Daphne were still whispering the sitting-in-a-tree rhyme over and over again so Harry could hear. His face felt hot and his stomach felt sick. There was definitely no chance of Hermione being his valentine now.

Harry didn't want to eat lunch in the Great Hall—not that he had an appetite anyway, of course. His lunch ended up being a Chocolate Frog, eaten in the boys' bathroom in a locked stall. Not exactly sanitary, but at least nobody was going to find him in there. Once lunchtime was over, though, he had to get to Care of Magical Creatures. Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, Pansy and Daphne followed Harry and Ron all the way there (Harry wouldn't walk with Hermione).

"POTTER AND GRANGER, SITTING IN A TREE! K-I-S-S-I-N-G! FIRST COMES LOVE, THEN COMES MARRIAGE—"

"Daphne! What on Earth are you up to?"

They all turned. There was Holly, towering formidably above them.

"What do you want?" Daphne crossed her arms and scowled up at her older cousin.

"Hey, loser," said Holly. "Are you seriously teasing Harry and Hermione?"

"What's it to you?" Daphne demanded, although Harry noticed her cheeks had turned a bit pink.

"Well, I don't know where you get off," Holly answered haughtily, "since I seem to recall you and Astoria giggling and staring at Draco all day long when we visited Malfoy Manor over the Christmas holidays."

Malfoy looked shocked and stared at Daphne, who turned bright red and clapped her hands over her mouth. Holly rolled her eyes and walked away. Ron moaned in longing, and Harry was sure he heard Malfoy say to Crabbe and Goyle, "Well, I thought Astoria was the prettier one, anyway."

By the time they got to the pumpkin patch for Care of Magical Creatures, Daphne had stopped teasing Harry, but the rest were still going at it, and their rhyme had gotten even worse. They weren't even calling Harry and Hermione by their names anymore:

Now they were chanting: " **POTTY AND THE MUDBLOOD, SITTING IN A TREE! K-I-S-S-I-N-G! FIRST COMES LOVE, THEN COMES MARRIAGE, THEN COMES A FILTHY HALF-BLOOD IN A BABY CARRIAGE!** _ **POTTY AND THE MUDBLOOD, SITTING IN A TREE! K-I-S-S-I-N-G! FIRST COMES LOVE, THEN COMES MARRIAGE, THEN COMES A FILTHY HALF-BLOOD IN A BABY CARRIAGE!"**_

And over and over again the rhyme went, until Harry couldn't take it anymore. He ran to Sirius, who was getting class set up.

"Sirius, will you write a permission slip getting me out of class for the next week or two?" he begged.

"Why?" said Sirius.

"Because…because I'm ill," said Harry, pretending to feel faint and putting his hand to his forehead. "I think I need to go to the hospital wing."

Sirius stared at the Slytherins, who were still taunting Hermione. Harry was amazed at how well she handled it; her head was high in the air, her eyes were closed, and she seemed to simply be ignoring them. Harry wished he could do the same.

"You can't skive off class because the Slytherins are acting like the douchenozzles they are," said Sirius. "If you do, then they win."

"I just can't stand it," Harry insisted. "I'm going to die of embarrassment."

"What are they teasing you about?"

"They…they found out about Hermione," Harry mumbled, not wanting to go into it. Sirius frowned.

"Let me handle this," he said, and walked off towards the gang of taunting Slytherins, Harry following close behind.

" _ **POTTY AND THE MUDBLOOD, SITTING IN A TREE! K-I-S-S-I-N-G! FIRST COMES LOVE—**_ **"**

"Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?" Sirius demanded, cutting them off short.

"Oh hello, _Professor_ Black," Malfoy said, saying the "Professor" part sarcastically. "Do you like our little rhyme?"

"No, I don't," said Sirius. "Clean out your mouth!"

Sirius snapped his fingers. Harry gasped as each Slytherin who had been chanting "Potty and the Mudblood" now had a foaming bar of soap in his or her mouth. Sirius glared at them, hands on his hips.

"One detention each, for all of you!" he snarled. "And fifty points from Slytherin!"

Malfoy spit the soap right out of his mouth.

"You can't!" he yelled in outrage.

"Don't tell me what I can and can't do, Malfoy!" Sirius snapped. "Do you want it to be one hundred and fifty?"

"When my father hears about this—"

"Tell him I'd be willing to duel, anytime," Sirius said coldly. "Now you lot stop singing that infernal rhyme, unless you want detention for the next month."

The Slytherins were quiet, then. It seemed they didn't want any more detention, and they definitely didn't want any more points taken away from Slytherin. Sirius winked at Harry, then beckoned everyone to come to the pumpkin patch for class.

Harry was glad not to have the Slytherins tease him for the rest of class, but there was still the fact that everyone knew his secret now. Hermione was watching him, he knew, but he wouldn't look at her. As soon as Care of Magical Creatures class was over, Harry didn't hang back to talk to Sirius, like he usually would have. Instead, he ran all the way up to Gryffindor Tower and shut himself in his dorm. Luckily, the dorm was deserted.

"Potty and the Mudblood" was still swarming around and around in Harry's brain. He sat there on his bed, his head buried in his knees, trying to get it out. When he heard a knock on the door, he was sure it was either Ron or Sirius, so he said loudly, "Go away!"

But he was surprised when his visitor entered the room. It was Hermione.


	53. What We Want, Whatever We Want

"Harry," Hermione said softly. "Harry, please talk to me."

It wasn't the most polite thing he could've done, Harry knew, but he closed the hangings around his bed and told her from within that he didn't want to talk to _anyone_ right now.

"Just go away," he pleaded.

"This is important," said Hermione, and to Harry's surprise, she pushed the hangings aside and sat next to him on the bed. Harry knew then that it would be pointless to argue with her.

"Fine," said Harry. "What do you want?"

"I just wanted to know…" Hermione took a deep breath. "Were you really going to send that letter to me?"

"Well, no," Harry admitted. "I meant every word of it. But I knew it would be too embarrassing to actually send."

"Why would it be?" Hermione asked. "I didn't think it was embarrassing."

"You didn't?"

"No." Hermione smiled. "I thought it was kind of…sweet."

Harry felt his face turning hot. Nothing would convince him that his letter wasn't embarrassing, but still, if Hermione had liked it, maybe it wasn't so bad.

"Like I said, I meant all of it," Harry mumbled.

"If you wanted me to be your valentine, Harry, you should have asked," Hermione said brightly. "I think we could give it a try, don't you?"

"W-What?" Harry stammered, sounding like Professor Quirrell. That was the last thing he expected her to say!

"Harry Potter, will you be my valentine?" Hermione asked, beaming.

"Yes!" Harry blurted, then pinched himself. It hurt a lot, so he supposed that meant he wasn't dreaming. No, his perfect Valentine's Day was actually happening.

"Okay," said Hermione, kissing Harry on the cheek. "By the way…I especially liked how you said you loved my smile. Not many people say that, as you could probably imagine."

"I think it's great," Harry told her, then added, "So…if you're my valentine…does that mean we go on a date or something?"

"Of course," said Hermione. "And I have an idea where."

"Really? Where do you want to go?"

"Well, you know how we've been having trouble finding out who Nicholas Flamel is?" Hermione asked, leaning in a little closer. "Maybe…maybe we could sneak down to the library tonight and look through the Restricted Section."

"Wouldn't that be…breaking the rules?" said Harry, grinning.

"It's for a good cause," Hermione said firmly. "And what could be more romantic than a study date? The only issue is, we could easily be caught by Filch."

"Not as much as you think," Harry told her. "You see, I've got some aids to magical mischief-making."

Harry dug in his trunk and pulled out both his father's Invisibility Cloak and the Marauder's Map. Hermione's chocolate-brown eyes widened.

"You've got an Invisibility Cloak?" she said. "Where did you get it?"

"It was my dad's," Harry explained. "He left it with Dumbledore before he died, and last Christmas, Dumbledore passed it on to me."

"And what's that?" Hermione asked, pointing to the Map. "It looks like an ordinary piece of parchment."

"Yeah, but watch," said Harry. "You say these words—'I solemnly swear I am up to no good'—tap it with your wand—and…"

"Oh, wow!" Hermione gasped as the Map started coming into view. "Looks like a Protean Charm to me."

"I found this in my dad's safe deposit box at Gringotts," Harry told her. "Sirius has got one too, you know. It was in his safe deposit box, but he brought it to Hogwarts to keep an eye on me."

"Hmm…" Hermione looked closely at the Map. "I don't see Sirius on here."

"Only the cartographers can see each other on the Map," Harry explained. "Also, if you try to work the Map but you don't know how, all it will do is insult you. But Sirius told me my mum tried to work it once, and since it had my dad's magic in it, she couldn't be insulted. Instead Prongs started trying to give her hints on how to work it, until Moony, Padfoot and Wormtail made him shut up."

"You're lucky to have Sirius, to tell you all these stories," said Hermione, and Harry agreed.

…

Around 11:30 that night, Harry couldn't believe his luck as he and Hermione squeezed under the Invisibility Cloak. It was a bit awkward, being that close to each other, but they tried to just focus on making their way to the library.

"Here we are," Hermione whispered in Harry's ear, and she lit her wand. The two of them stepped over the rope that separated the Restricted Section from the rest of the library and looked along the rows of books. Harry didn't know what book to look at first, but Hermione pulled a big, heavy one down. Harry ran to look over her shoulder, but as soon as she opened it—

SCREAM! The book let out a terrible, never-ending screech. Even when Hermione closed the book, the shrieking went on and on. Things got worse when they heard footsteps getting closer.

" _Nox!"_ Hermione whispered hurriedly, and her wandlight went out. Harry threw the Cloak back over their heads and they ran, trying not to trip over the hem of the Cloak. They stopped when they reached a tall suit of armor.

"Do you have any idea where we are?" Harry hissed.

"No," Hermione whispered back, looking beyond frightened. Then they heard Filch.

"You asked me to come directly to you, Professor, if anyone was wandering around at night," he was saying, "and somebody's been in the library—Restricted Section."

"The Restricted Section?" Harry heard none other than Snape reply. "Well, they can't be far, we'll catch them."

Harry and Hermione backed up, watching with dread as Snape and Filch came around the corner, but it was no use. If they went much farther, there would be a collision. The Cloak made Harry invisible, but he was still as solid as ever.

Hermione nudged Harry and pointed to an open door to their left. Harry understood, and they darted inside. Harry thought it was an unused classroom, judging by the desks and chairs against the walls and the upside-down wastebasket. But then—

"Oh my God, I know what this is!" Hermione gasped, taking the Cloak off of both of them.

"What?" said Harry.

"This mirror!" Hermione told him, pointing to what was indeed a mirror, a huge one that reached the ceiling. The frame was golden, and around the top were the words _Erised stra ehru oyt ube carfru oyt on wohsi_.

"I wonder what the words mean," Harry said thoughtfully. "D'you think it's Latin or something?"

"No," Hermione said excitedly. "It's a code, see? Read it backwards."

Harry squinted and read backwards: " _I show not your face but your heart's desire_."

"It's a Mirror of Erised," Hermione explained. "When you look into this mirror…"

"It shows us what we want," Harry realized. "Whatever we want."

"Do you want to look first?" Hermione asked.

"Um, okay."

Harry stepped in front of the mirror, and he was astounded at what he saw. In the mirror he recognized his parents—his mother, a beautiful woman with dark red hair and green eyes just like Harry's; his father, a tall thin man with untidy black hair and glasses, only his were square, not round; and behind them, what must have been the rest of Harry's family.

"Well?" came Hermione's voice, from far, far away. "What do you see?"

"I…I see my parents, and all the rest of my dead family," Harry told her. "My heart's desire is for my family to be alive."

The excitement faded from Hermione's face. Now she looked sad, and Harry was shocked when she gave him a gentle hug.

"Oh, Harry, that's terrible," she said sympathetically, sounding suddenly like she was going to cry. "You must miss them so much."

"It's okay," Harry said helplessly. "I mean, I still have Sirius, he's like my family, too. Do you want to have a look?"

"Sure," Hermione said tearfully, separating herself from Harry and looking into the mirror. Then she said, "Not quite as remarkable…I see myself as Head Girl—and I got all O's on my N.E.W.T.s!"

"You got what on your what?"

"N.E.W.T.s, or Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests," Hermione explained. "They're the highest qualification Hogwarts offers. And the grade 'O' is short for 'Outstanding'."

"You will be Head Girl, Hermione," Harry told her. "And you can get Outstanding, too."

"Want to have another look?" Hermione asked understandingly.

"Yes, I do."

Harry nodded emphatically and moved in front of the mirror, staring at his parents, who waved at him; Lily was smiling, but she was crying at the same time. James put his arm around her. And how Harry wished they could be here now, so his mother could hug him too, so his father could play Quidditch with him and Sirius, so they could see him off at King's Cross…Never before had Harry suddenly felt such a pang of envy for Ron and Hermione, who both had their families and never knew what it was like to be an orphan.

"Harry," said Hermione, suddenly shaking his shoulder. "Harry, are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Harry told her.

"I think we should go," she said nervously. "I heard a noise outside."

Harry pulled himself away from his reflection and his family.

"I'll come back," he whispered to them, so Hermione couldn't hear. She slipped the Cloak on over their heads and back they went to Gryffindor Tower.


	54. Reflections

The next night, Saturday night, Harry took Ron to see the Mirror of Erised. Ron said he looked older, and he was Head Boy, as well as Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Ron's brother Bill had been Head Boy, and his brother Charlie had been a Quidditch Captain. Harry had the feeling that Ron's heart's desire was not really just to be Head Boy and Quidditch Captain, but also to not be outshone by his brothers all the time.

On Sunday, Harry's curiosity was getting the better of him, and he found Sirius at his teacher's quarters.

"Hello," said Sirius, opening the door. "What brings you here?"

"I had a question to ask you," said Harry. "If that's okay."

"Sure." Sirius sat down on the couch and beckoned for Harry to join him. "What is it?"

"I just wanted to know…" Harry sat down on the couch. "What do you see in the Mirror of Erised?"

"How d'you know about that?" Sirius asked in shock.

"It was in a book I read," Harry lied. "It shows not your face, but your heart's desire. So do you know what you see in it?"

"Well, not really," Sirius told him. "The last time I looked into a Mirror of Erised was before I went to Azkaban, and things were different then."

"So what did you see?"

"Well, what I saw was…" Sirius smiled sadly. "Do you want to hear another story about when you were a baby? The story of how I came upon the Mirror of Erised?"

"Yes, of course!" Harry nodded eagerly.

"Okay, well, I didn't know it at the time, but during the fall of 1980, when you were a few months old, Dumbledore was remodeling his house when he was at Hogwarts," Sirius began. "So he was running out of space for a few things, and he stored his Mirror of Erised in the Potters' cottage during the remodeling."

Harry thought now that it must have been the same Mirror of Erised that was in the school.

"So one night I was babysitting you when Lily and James were on a date night, and you wouldn't stop crying," Sirius continued. "I went to take you to a mirror, because babies like to look in mirrors—they think it's another baby they're looking at. Anyway, I came across the Mirror of Erised, but I thought at the time it was just a regular old mirror. Because you see, if you're completely content with your life, you'll see yourself exactly as you are when you look into the Mirror of Erised. And I was completely content with who I was, so staring back at me I saw myself, holding you in my arms, and you were laughing now, because you liked to look in the mirror."

"What did my parents see, do you know?" Harry asked.

"Well, the way I hear it, when Lily looked in the Mirror she saw herself with your aunt Petunia," Sirius said. "She always wanted them to be friends again like they were when they were younger. James used to look into the Mirror and see Lily, but once they started dating he started to see himself just as he was, too."

"I see all of my family in it," Harry told him. "My dead family."

"What?" Sirius looked around quickly at Harry. "When did you see a Mirror of Erised?"

"Uhh…" Harry realized what had slipped out and tried to think of a way to backpedal, but he couldn't.

"I thought you said you only read about it in a book!"

"Okay, fine, I didn't," Harry admitted. "Hermione and I actually found one in an unused classroom."

"Wow," said Sirius. "When?"

"On Valentine's Day," Harry told him. "We were having a midnight study date, but we heard Filch coming, so we ran for it and found ourselves in front of the Mirror. It's probably Dumbledore's Mirror of Erised, the same one you looked into eleven years ago."

"You know, you really shouldn't be wandering around at night like that," Sirius reprimanded Harry.

"Hello, kettle, this is pot," said Harry, pretending to talk on the phone. "You are black."

"Okay, I get the point," Sirius grumbled.

"Do you want to come see it?" Harry asked. "I'd like to know what you see in it."

"Well…all right," said Sirius. "But not after hours."

"Not a problem," Harry told him. "We can go now if you like."

…

The unused classroom looked less creepy in broad daylight. Sirius let Harry look in the Mirror before he looked himself. But Harry kept on looking and looking, like he had the past two nights, because he just couldn't get enough.

"Harry, do you want me to try it now?" Sirius said tentatively. "I mean…you have been looking for awhile now."

"Sure," said Harry vaguely, moving aside.

"Thanks." Sirius stepped in front of the Mirror—but then he froze.

"Well? What do you see?"

Sirius didn't exactly look right. He didn't take his eyes away from the Mirror.

"It's…it's the same thing I saw eleven years ago," he said slowly. "Except you and I look much older, the way we do now, and Lily and James are there, too. It's the four of us, just the four of us…"

"Your heart's desire," Harry said softly. "Your heart's desire is that my parents come back."

Sirius nodded and, with what looked like a tremendous effort, he looked away from himself and Harry's family.

"We shouldn't come back," he said shortly. "I shouldn't come back, and you shouldn't come back. This mirror is dangerous."

"Why?" Harry asked.

"It can drive you mad," Sirius told him. All of a sudden, he seemed to be in a big hurry to get away. "Listen, Harry, I mean it—I don't want you looking for this again. It's known to be addicting."

"Sirius, I know what this is about," Harry said, coming to a sudden realization. "Dr. Stefansen told you _not_ to avoid things that remind you of your past, remember?"

"I don't care, I just want to go," Sirius snapped, pulling on Harry's hand. "Come on."

And with that, Harry allowed himself to be pulled from the room.

…

Harry didn't care what Sirius said. He was going back that night. This time, he didn't bring Ron, Hermione or Sirius along with him. He just went alone. Closer, closer he came to the unused classroom…he went to step inside…and…SMACK! Harry slammed into what felt like an invisible wall. Head spinning, he looked around; there was nothing there, but every time he tried to get into the room, he couldn't. Something invisible was blocking him. If only he could just get one glimpse…he strained his neck to look into the room and…

To his shock, there was Sirius, sitting on the floor in front of the mirror, knees drawn up to his chest, one hand touching the glass surface, as if by breaking it, he could reach what he saw. It looked like he'd been there for some time. His gray eyes were filled with the most terrible, empty longing. And the worst part was, Harry could see that his face was streaked with tears.

"James, Lily..." Sirius said hoarsely. "It's all my fault. I'm sorry...so, so sorry..."

And Harry watched as Sirius's thin hand lost its strength and slipped down, leaving foggy fingerprints on the glass. Sirius wrapped both hands around his knees, then, hugging himself as if he was cold. He buried his face in his knees and his shoulders shook. Harry tried and tried to get into the room, but now he understood. Sirius had magically blocked him. He could do nothing but watch his godfather cry, and then he knew, the Mirror of Erised really was dangerous. And it wasn't just dangerous. It was cruel. It got the heart wanting things it couldn't have.

Harry ran back to Gryffindor Tower as fast as his legs could carry him, knowing he would not come back again, ever, whether he was blocked or not.


	55. The Miracle of Life

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hi there! I just wanted to say thank you to a certain Linkin-Phoenix, who has been giving a lot of good reviews so far! :) You disabled your private messaging, but I wanted to say anyway, I'm glad you're enjoying the story and I love reading your reviews!**

…

The rest of February was being a pretty good month. Word around school was that Harry and Hermione were together. Ron was shocked, mostly because he hadn't suspected anything. There were a few bumps along the way—for example, Harry learned that Snape would be refereeing their next Quidditch match, against Hufflepuff. But Dumbledore had come to the match, and of course Snape wouldn't do anything with Dumbledore watching.

But as they entered March, Harry could tell Sirius had something troubling him. So on Wednesday evening, just as they had finished Defense Against the Dark Arts class, he hung back to ask about it.

"Hi, Sirius," said Harry. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Sirius replied, whilst giving every indication that he was not fine. He was still as pale as can be, and he kept compulsively running his hands through his hair, which was never a good sign.

"I don't know, you look kind of peaky," Harry pointed out. "Hmm…it's got something to do with the baby, hasn't it?"

"Shh!" Sirius put his finger to his lips. "You didn't tell anyone, did you?"

"No," said Harry. "But honestly, what's the problem?"

"All right, listen," said Sirius, flopping down into an armchair by the fire. "Barbara officially starts her second trimester on Saturday, and that's around the time when the risk for miscarriage greatly decreases."

"So then why are you worried?" Harry asked.

"Well, I'm going to go home and see her this weekend, so we can visit her doctor together," said Sirius, "and I guess I'm just afraid of what we're going to find out. What if there isn't a heartbeat? Barbara says she can't feel it kicking so…"

Sirius shrugged helplessly.

"But maybe that's just normal," Harry told his godfather, sitting down beside him. "When do babies start kicking?"

"I don't know when they do," said Sirius. "You see? I'm not ready to be a father."

Harry hated seeing Sirius upset, so he said what he could to cheer him up.

"Maybe nobody's ever ready to be a parent, Sirius, did you ever think of that?" he said. "What if nobody knows what they're doing until the baby grows up and moves away? I think what matters is that you both love the baby, and I know you do."

"Of course I do," Sirius said slowly. "Barbara knows I'm afraid the baby won't make it. She's afraid of that, too. But I haven't let on that I'm afraid I won't be able to look after it properly."

"But you will, Sirius," Harry insisted. "You're going to love being a dad. I just wish you would believe that."

"I don't know how I'm going to get through the rest of the week, though," said Sirius. "It all depends on Saturday, it all depends on what the OB-GYN says."

"What's an OB-GYN?" asked Harry.

"Ah. Well…" Sirius ran his hand through his hair again. "It's a doctor who deals with, y'know…female matters, you might say."

"Oh…okay then," said Harry, but Sirius must have seen that he was still confused.

"Part of what they do is work with pregnant women and their babies," Sirius explained, "so that's why Barbara's got one. They deliver babies too. But Barbara's probably going to do it in a Birth Clinic, because that way she can get the anti-pain potion."

"But she's not a witch," Harry pointed out.

"Potiogravida works on Muggles, so I'm sure the anti-pain potion will too," Sirius said confidently.

"No, I mean, she can't know about the Wizarding World until you two are married, I thought."

"It turns out there's actually some clause or restriction or whatever in that law," said Sirius. "If one parent's got a magic gene and the other hasn't, the witch or wizard in question is allowed to reveal their true identity, even if they're not married, because the magic gene is more than likely to be passed on to the baby. You're not allowed to tell until the mother's in the second trimester, though, so that's why I haven't told her yet."

"Maybe you can on Saturday, after you hear the baby's heartbeat and stuff," Harry said hopefully.

Sirius smiled at him. "Yeah, maybe."

"I've seen it on TV," said Harry. "They use this machine to see inside the mother's stomach, and you get to see the baby. It's called an ultrasound. But when you go to the doctor, just try to act like you know what it is."

"Muggle technology is actually amazing, you know that?" Sirius said in wonder. "There's so much stuff technology can do that magic can't."

Sirius leaned back in the chair, and Harry knew he was thinking of things like the TV, phone, and of course the ultrasound machine, with which he would probably be flabbergasted. Since he wasn't speaking, Harry thought he would ask him a certain question that had been buzzing around in the back of his mind ever since he'd found out Barbara was going to have a baby.

"Do you think you can answer a question I've got, Sirius?" Harry asked.

"Probably," said Sirius. "What is it?"

"Well, it's just…I know a lot about how babies are born because of stuff I've seen on TV," Harry began. "Like on that _Love and Lust_ program, the characters are always having babies. But the thing is, what they never really explain is…"

"How the babies get in there in the first place?" Sirius finished, looking a bit unsettled.

"Yeah," said Harry. "I figured you'd know…since you're the baby's father."

"I do know." Sirius coughed, then looked over at Harry. "But you really don't?"

"How would I know?"

"Well, I figured you heard it from other kids at school or something, I guess," said Sirius.

"The other kids didn't like to talk to me, remember?" Harry reminded him. "Maybe they were talking about it, but there was no way they'd include me. I'm pretty sure they teach it at Stonewall High, but as you know, I came to school here instead."

"Wait, they teach you that in _school?"_ Sirius asked in shock. "Well, shit."

"What do you mean?" said Harry, frowning.

"Harry, if you grew up in an aristocratic, traditional family in the early 1960's, you wouldn't bring that subject up in public, and especially not to an adult," Sirius explained. "Everything was all about being proper and well-mannered."

"But your mother hitting you isn't proper or well-mannered," Harry pointed out.

"Well, you'll find that what happens behind closed doors is often very different than the image you present to the public," Sirius said simply.

Harry nodded. He knew this was true because it was the same thing the Dursleys thought. They never wanted anyone to see the way they treated Harry. Aunt Petunia, paranoid that everyone was gossiping about her, was always obsessing over what the neighbors would say or think, even as she spied on them for signs of anything unusual. The Malfoys seemed that way to Harry, too, the way they wanted to hide their Death Eater past.

"But you're doing it now too, Sirius," Harry told him. "You're not telling me. There must be some missing link here, because I don't know what's improper about a baby being created."

"Well, that wasn't what made people uncomfortable," said Sirius. "It was the fact that you have to be really intimate with a woman to make her pregnant. And you'll find that if you're not comfortable with yourself, if you were taught that this sort of thing is sick and wrong, it's quite hard to be comfortable with anyone else."

"Well, _is_ it sick and wrong? Or are you going to tell me in this lifetime?"

"Fine," said Sirius. "Do you remember a few weeks ago when that foul upperclassman said girls only want boys for what's in their pants?"

"Sure I do," Harry replied. "But didn't he specify he was talking about what's in the back of the boy's pants? You know, his _wallet?"_

"Well, yeah, but that wasn't the joke," said Sirius. "You were supposed to think he was talking about something else."

"There was only one other thing it could possibly mean, though," Harry told him, "and I don't see why girls would find that attractive, or what it's got to do with babies."

"God, I hate to be the one to destroy your innocence," said Sirius. "But I'll tell you, because I don't need you finding out from some idiot classmate who doesn't know what he's talking about. Just keep in mind, I want you to understand that this is for reference only. I don't want you doing any of this stuff until you're older. Do you promise?"

"I promise," Harry said eagerly.

"Okay, good," said Sirius, and he started to explain, but was soon interrupted by Harry, whose expression of interest had quickly morphed into one of absolute horror.

"You put it _where?!"_ he cried.

"Come on now—you know girls are built differently, don't you?"

"I guess so," Harry told him. "But…but why would I do that?!"

"You _won't_ be doing it, for now," said Sirius. "But when you get older, well, you might change your mind."

"I'm not doing that, ever!" Harry said, feeling a little panicked. "And my parents didn't, either!"

"Sure they did," Sirius told him. "How did you think you got here, then? Owl post?"

"I guess I just never really thought about it before now…"

"It's the same place the baby comes out, you know," said Sirius. "The same way it got in."

"How is a whole baby supposed to get through there?" Harry demanded.

"Well, you'll find it's actually quite flexible—but anyway, that's not the point," Sirius said. "The point is, that's what it means to be intimate with someone. Pregnancy doesn't always happen, but when it does…that's how."

"So you really did that with Barbara over Christmas vacation?" said Harry. "Why—why did you do it if you weren't ready to have a baby?"

"Because it's awfully hard not to, when you've abstained all September, October, November and most of December out of loyalty to her, and then suddenly you're in a bed together…" Sirius sighed. "She just said, 'You want to shag, don't you?' and I said, 'Hell yeah'."

"And that's the story of how your baby's life began," Harry said grouchily. All of a sudden, the Miracle of Life seemed a lot less miraculous. He wouldn't have believed it, except he knew Sirius had no reason not to tell him the truth—although to be honest, he wished he hadn't asked.

"Look, you don't have to worry," Sirius said. "If you don't want to do it, don't."

"What if some girl asks me to?"

"Just tell her you're saving yourself until marriage." Sirius shrugged. "Be like my parents, and convince yourself there's no purpose for sex other than to make babies."

"What about you, then?" Harry asked. "If you never talked about it with your parents, and you never learned about it in school, how did you learn about it?"

Sirius pulled a face.

"Well, I guess it started when I was about five," he said. "Our house-elf, Kreacher, was taking the trash out to the curb, and I was a real escape artist then, I took every opportunity to try and dart outside when the door was open. So before my mum could grab me, I ran outside as fast as my little five-year-old legs could carry me, and I noticed a couple of dogs going at it in the neighbor's yard."

"Come on, really?" Harry said, laughing a little in spite of himself.

"Really," said Sirius. "Well, I didn't know, so I asked what they were doing, and my mum just said, 'They're having sex', then grabbed me, took me back inside, and slammed the door. I didn't broach the subject again, because I could tell it was off-limits, and it seemed a little strange to me. So I didn't really think much of it again until I was I think seven, when my Uncle Cygnus and his family were visiting."

"What happened?" Harry asked.

"Well, they visited often, and what we would do back in the old days is, the adults would eat in our basement kitchen, while Kreacher would serve us kids dinner in the drawing room upstairs," Sirius explained. "When we were older, we were allowed to eat with the adults. So that one time, my cousins Bellatrix and Narcissa were eating in the kitchen with the adults, and my favorite cousin Andromeda and I were in charge of watching Reg, who was about five. I remember he was wearing this green playsuit with the Black family crest on it, and he was playing with his toys while Andromeda and I sat on the couch. She was about nine then, and we were just discussing normal stuff and keeping an eye on Reg, when she told me her older sister Bellatrix told her a secret and she asked if I wanted to hear it, and of course I told her I wanted to hear it."

"And it was about the Miracle of Life, wasn't it?"

"Look, you can call it 'shagging', but yeah," said Sirius. "She told me what she knew, which wasn't really that much in retrospect, and she told me she thought maybe Bellatrix was making it up to scare her because she was always doing stuff like that, and I said no, it was true, that I'd seen dogs doing it a couple years ago, and then her eyes got all wide and she told me puppies would be coming out of the mummy dog when that happened. Then she told me the rest of what Bellatrix had told her, and I just remember being really shocked. Remember, she had only sisters and I only had a brother, so we weren't really all too familiar with the opposite sex. But that was when my mum came in the room to fetch Regulus and we had to follow her, so we didn't talk about it anymore after that.

"Your dad's parents were a lot less traditional and tight-lipped than mine, as you know," Sirius continued, "so he'd had this talk with his parents, and when the topic would come up between us, I was able to get a lot of my basic facts straight. And the rest of it…the rest of it I learned behind the broomsheds, you could say. When I was fifteen, I told Reg everything I knew."

"You mean, like with Bellatrix and Andromeda?"

"No," said Sirius indignantly. "Bellatrix was an underclassman at Hogwarts by then, and I'm guessing she picked it up from one of the girls in her dorm. She was probably just showing off the fact that she knew something Andromeda didn't, and trying to scare her, too. I was Regulus's source of information because, like with you, I didn't want him getting the particulars from the wrong source. I felt it was my duty as older brother to make sure he got the right information. By the end of fourth year I'd lost my own virginity, so it wasn't that difficult."

"Fourth year?!" Harry said. "That's awfully early, isn't it?"

"I was fifteen, so not really," Sirius told him. "Especially since it was the seventies and the Sex Revolution was going on and a lot of teenagers were experimenting. Merlin knows _I_ got around. It was pretty crazy. But perhaps you'll be glad to know James insisted on saving himself for Lily."

That did make Harry feel a little better. It was a little horrifying to think that his parents had done that at all, but at least his father had been able to stay with just one woman. He knew his parents had been in the same situation as Sirius and Barbara were now—they hadn't been planning to have a baby.

"And I can tell you something else now, as an adult with a steady girlfriend," Sirius said abruptly. "Something I couldn't have told you when I was younger."

"What's that?" Harry asked.

"I laughed at him at the time, but now I realize your dad was right," Sirius replied. "It's certainly nice to have a romp in the sack with some random girl who smells nice, but it's just so much better to do it with somebody special, someone you really love. If you take one thing away from this conversation, I want it to be that."

"I'll remember," said Harry. "Especially if it was something my dad would have said."

They didn't speak again until Sirius yawned and said he should probably be getting to bed. Harry told him goodnight and went up to his dorm, too, but he didn't sleep for a long time. For a while now he had been anxious about growing up, but he didn't know if this new information should make him more or less worried.


	56. Pain

Later that night, Harry told Ron everything Sirius had told him. Ron said he wasn't surprised, because his dad had discussed it with him, but that the discussion had been really awkward, considering he and Mrs. Weasley had done it at _least_ six times.

"At least my parents only did it once," Harry pointed out. "Yours did it six—or do you have to do it twice to have twins?"

"I don't know," said Ron. "But I don't like to think about it."

"Bet you're thinking of it with Holly," said Harry, and he saw Ron's ears turn bright red just before he shoved his head under the comforter.

The next morning Harry walked with Hermione and held her hand, as usual. But it was different, because he couldn't help thinking about what Sirius had told him, and how even though he really loved her, he couldn't imagine doing _that_ with her. Or with anyone, for that matter. Even kissing her was totally embarrassing! So how on Earth could he possibly—

"Harry," said Hermione, shaking Harry's shoulder and sending an electric charge through him. "We're at the Great Hall. Time to eat."

"Oh." Harry stared across the four tables full of chattering students. "Right."

And that was when the pain started. Harry thought it was just nerves because that morning he had been thinking about shagging so much, but as they sat through Charms class it got increasingly worse. Harry reminded himself that he probably only had indigestion and maybe he ate some bad eggs or something. Hopefully he didn't have food poisoning. Dudley had contracted it a couple of years ago, and although it was pretty great to see Dudley so miserable, Harry could tell it was something he personallydidn't want to be a part of.

They were still practicing their charm work, but Harry couldn't pay attention because his stomach was hurting so bad. And he was starting to burn up again, the way he had during his bout of flu. During lunch, when it was hurting so bad he couldn't eat anything, he told Ron about it.

"Indigestion for sure," said Ron knowledgeably. "And there's only one way to deal with that problem—well, two, I guess."

Harry grimaced, hoping Hermione hadn't overheard that.

"Don't be embarrassed," said Seamus Finnigan, as if he knew what Harry was thinking. "It's a part of life."

"You should take some antacids," added Dean Thomas helpfully, pulling them out of his pocket and offering them to Harry. "My stomach's really sensitive and I was afraid I wouldn't be able to handle the food in Scotland, so I brought them just in case. But you can have some."

Harry took the antacids from Dean and swallowed them with his pumpkin juice. Maybe they would work by the time they got to History of Magic class that afternoon…but no, they seemed to have made it worse if anything. Harry's stomach had been feeling a little better for some time, but all of a sudden, as he was watching Hermione take notes, it started to hurt again, and this time it was wild with pain. It was like knives were stabbing him. Harry did have a high threshold for pain, but this was ridiculous! At first he tried to ignore it, but then his stomach lurched horribly and he had the awful feeling that his breakfast was soon going to be coming out both ways at once.

"Professor Binns, I've got to go to the bathroom," he said, and (without even bothering to gather up his books) rushed out of the room.

"Well, looks like the antacids are working," Dean said brightly.

Harry knew he had to get to the hospital wing immediately, but he didn't know how to get there, and all the same, he didn't trust his legs too much at the moment. What if the hospital wing was on the seventh floor, the highest one? There was no way Harry could run up even _one_ staircase, much less six of them.

But then he thought of someplace he _could_ go on the first floor…if he could make it there in time…

Harry reached Sirius's door, hoping beyond hope he wasn't teaching a class, and pounded on it, yelling in a hoarse voice, "OPEN UP, OPEN UP, OPEN UP! IT'S AN EMERGENCY!"

"Harry, what on Earth…?" Sirius flung the door wide open, but his mouth dropped open at the sight of Harry, watery-eyed, weak-kneed, clutching his painful stomach, trying with all his might not to throw up and have a serious accident at the same time.

"I'm dying," he told Sirius. Of course, he knew he wasn't, but it felt like he was. Sirius ushered him inside and sat him down on the couch, looking concerned.

"Just tell me what hurts, kid, okay?" said Sirius, rubbing Harry's back.

"My stomach, really bad," Harry moaned, grabbing onto him. "I've got to throw up and I think I'm burning up again."

Sirius stuck his wand in Harry's ear and took his temperature again. _105_ , said the smoke furling out of his wand-tip.

"Not to mention a high fever," said Sirius, pocketing his wand and looking decidedly anxious.

"Ron said I have indigestion," Harry told him, "but I don't know."

"Does it feel like you swallowed a rock?" Sirius asked. "Is it mostly in the front of your stomach?"

"No," said Harry, gesturing. "It's more like in the side—the right side…DEAR GOD, THIS IS _PAINFUL!"_

"Nausea, fever, side pain…" Sirius pulled Harry up. "I think you need to get your appendix out, kid. Come on, let's go to the hospital wing."

But Harry stayed where he was.

"No, I can't!" he pleaded. "Uncle Vernon had to have his appendix out and he was in the hospital for five days! And I heard him telling my aunt his appendix was too close to his spine or something so they had to stick this horrible medical thing up his—"

"Thanks for that image, Harry," said Sirius crossly, holding onto Harry's hand. "And anyway, that might be the way things work for Muggles, but Madame Pomfrey will have you on your feet by tomorrow morning, and I can guarantee you there will be no, er…violations."

Sirius tried to pull Harry's hand, but Harry couldn't walk, and he told Sirius so.

"I'm going to die," he moaned, sinking down onto the floor, hands over his painful side.

"No, no you're not," said Sirius, trying to hoist Harry up. "Stand up, please, and don't touch where it hurts. We've got to get to the hospital wing before your appendix ruptures."

Harry had the sudden image of his appendix exploding like a punctured balloon. This was believable, as he had never been in this much pain before. It made Dr. Grant's shots feel as gentle as Cruppy kisses in comparison. He was too scared to speak or even cry, and in too much pain to move.

"Come on, mate, walk with me," Sirius pleaded.

"C-C-Carry me…?" Harry mumbled, using all his strength to lift his arms up.

"Oh…okay," said Sirius, and even though they were thin, his arms were strong—and besides, Harry was still on the skinny side. Harry would normally be embarrassed if Sirius carried him, but he was in too much pain to feel like a baby, and the halls were empty anyway. Everyone was in class. Harry didn't pay much attention to where Sirius was taking him until _bang_ , he heard Sirius almost kick a door open and then they were in a dark room full of beds, some with curtains around them.

"Who's there?" someone was heard saying, and a woman who could only be Madame Pomfrey came rushing into the room.

"It's me, Professor Black," said Sirius. Harry could hear the panic in his voice. "Harry's appendix is just about to rupture."

"Put him in a bed, hurry," said Madame Pomfrey. "If his appendix does rupture, he could die."

Harry felt Sirius lowering him carefully into a bed, then taking off his glasses so he wouldn't crush them if he rolled around a lot. Sirius was sitting on the edge of the bed, Harry squeezing his hand and trying to ignore the severe stomach pain, when Madame Pomfrey emerged from her office again. Harry felt either her or Sirius smoothing his hair in an attempt to comfort him. It was a little harder to stay conscious now, so it was hard to understand what they were saying.

"I've had my appendix out and so has my brother," Sirius was telling her, "so I'm familiar with the symptoms."

"And you must know how much pain he is in," Madame Pomfrey added, then told Harry, "I'll take your appendix out now. Professor Black will be leaving for the duration of the surgery."

"Wha—no!" Harry moaned, eyes closed, his hand clinging to Sirius's wrist. "I need him here, please let him stay!"

"Harry, I'll be back as soon as your surgery is finished, I promise," Sirius was heard saying. "Don't worry. Everything's going to be all right."

"I've taken care of much worse afflictions than this, Mr. Potter," said Madame Pomfrey. "Just take this potion and relax."

Harry was too weak to lift the goblet, so Madame Pomfrey poured it down his throat for him. Sirius stayed with Harry, holding his hand, until the potion worked its magic and Harry was out like a light. He didn't remember anything else of that afternoon.


	57. Tension

_On the wings of the wind_

 _Over the dark rolling deep_

 _Angels are coming to watch over your sleep_

 _Hear the wind blow, hear the wind blow_

 _Lean your head over and hear the wind blow_

Harry looked up to see who was singing. It was a woman. Her eyes were shut; she was rocking him, and he grabbed at her long hair as it dangled in his face.

 _On the wings of the night_

 _May your fury be crossed_

 _Let no one that's dear to our island be lost_

 _Calm be the wind, calm be the foam_

 _Shine the light brightly to guide them back home_

The woman stopped singing and opened her eyes. Harry saw that they were bright and green and full of happiness. Her hair was a dark shade of red and very thick. It was fun to grab at. She laughed and held him close. She smelled like flowers. When he felt a familiar heartbeat, he was instantly soothed.

"So," she said in her calming voice. "I see you recognize your mummy."

 _Mummy_. It was wonderful to hear it. Harry only hoped she would love him and hold him forever.

"And over there is your daddy," she continued.

 _Daddy?_ Harry turned his head to where his mummy's hand was pointing. There, asleep in an old armchair, was a tall, thin man with messy black hair. His glasses were clutched in one hand. He was snoring very loudly. Harry wanted his daddy to talk to him and hold him, too. But right now he seemed very sleepy. Harry was feeling sleepy too, especially when his mummy rocked him again and smoothed his hair comfortingly. But he couldn't sleep, because over in the armchair his daddy was snoring so, so loud…

Harry started awake, his heart beating madly. At first he didn't know where he was, but he was in a very dark room and even though his mother was gone and he was in a bed he could still hear the snoring—then he looked over in a corner and collapsed in a wooden chair nearby was not James, but Sirius. And then everything came back.

"S-Sirius…?" Harry said faintly. The pain in his stomach was gone, although he did feel sleepy and kind of achy.

"W-Whuh?" Sirius jumped and awakened with a snort. "Who's there?"

"It's me, Harry," whispered Harry, without knowing exactly why he was whispering.

"Oh…Harry." Sirius smiled and lifted his head up. "How you doing, kid? Feeling better?"

"Yeah, a little," Harry told him.

"Glad to hear it," said Sirius, hoisting himself up from the chair and coming to sit on the end of Harry's bed. "Madame Pomfrey says you have to spend the night in the hospital wing, and that you might have aching joints to some extent. But you'll be better by tomorrow."

They were silent for a bit, then Harry smiled.

"So, Sirius," he said. "Feel like a dad yet?"

"What?" Sirius raised an eyebrow. "W-What's that got to do with it?"

"Well, you probably just saved my life, for one thing," Harry reminded him, reaching out his hand, and Sirius held it. "You heard what Madame Pomfrey said. My friends were all telling me I had indigestion, so if you hadn't been there my appendix would've ruptured and it would've killed me. You saved me."

"Oh, Harry, I'm no hero," said Sirius, squeezing Harry's hand. "I'm just doing my duty."

"Sirius, if you love your new baby even half as much as you love me, you're going to be an awesome dad," Harry told him. "You might not think you're a hero. But you're _my_ hero."

Tears shimmered in Sirius's eyes and he swallowed as he looked at the floor and stroked his unshaven chin. For once he was without words—but Harry understood.

…

Sirius wrote Harry a note to get him out of Potions the next day, even though he really did feel 100% better. Harry was sure Madame Pomfrey saw through his fake moaning at once, but since he had a note from his legal guardian, there wasn't much she could do. Harry made a miraculous, instantaneous recovery around lunchtime as soon as Potions was over, and he ate lunch with Ron and Hermione, then went to Care of Magical Creatures.

Sirius was trying to pull himself together, but Harry could tell he was very distracted, thinking about how he and Barbara would be at the OB-GYN this time tomorrow. They were studying flobberworms, which were like regular worms only more boring, Harry guessed because Sirius didn't want to have to deal with anything that was actually hard to teach.

"What's wrong with your godfather, do you know?" Seamus Finnigan asked Harry.

"I have no idea," Harry lied.

Sirius didn't drink before classes. But as soon as class let out, he headed towards his teacher's quarters, and Harry had a good idea of what he planned on doing there. He ran after Sirius, calling his name.

"Hello, Harry," said Sirius glumly. "What is it?"

"I just wanted to tell you, I don't think you should be drinking today," Harry panted, out-of-breath due to running.

"Why not?"

"Because you're going to be a dad, and getting drunk whenever you're stressed out isn't a good example for your baby," Harry told him.

Sirius thought about it for a minute.

"Okay, fine, you're right," he admitted. "But at least let me have one? Just to take the edge off?"

"Only one," Harry said strictly. "Because remember, you have to fly all the way to London tonight."

"I know." Sirius smiled weakly. "You really think it'll be okay?"

"Of course," Harry replied. "How about this? You come back Sunday evening, and then you can tell me and my friends in the Gryffindor common room."

"Deal," said Sirius.

…

Harry couldn't help feeling some anxiety himself the next day. He didn't know if Barbara was seeing her doctor in the morning or in the afternoon, but it was bugging him all the same. What if Barbara really did miscarry again? Sirius had already lost so many people he cared about…and Harry knew it wouldn't matter one bit that Sirius had never actually met the baby. The fact that he had one, and then lost it, would be bad enough.

It was impossible to sleep Saturday night, and Sunday seemed to slog by. Tonight, he would find out…If the baby had been lost, Sirius would probably tell Harry in private, but if everything truly was fine, he would announce it in the Gryffindor common room to everyone there. Quite possibly, the baby would be like a little brother or sister to him.

Sunday night, after dinner, Harry was sitting in the common room, staring into space. Hermione and Ron kept asking him what was the matter, but he didn't answer them. He couldn't. Like Sirius, he was now fearing the worst…

And he felt his heart jump into his throat as he heard footsteps out in the corridor—and then the portrait swung open.


	58. News

It was Neville.

"Harry, Harry!" he panted. "I-I saw Sirius in the hallway! With—with some _woman!"_

"What?" Harry gasped.

Neville nodded, but Harry couldn't believe it. The woman couldn't be Barbara, because Muggles couldn't see Hogwarts. The more he thought about it, the more Harry feared the worst. What if they had indeed lost their baby, and on the way back from London, Sirius had stopped at a pub in Hogsmeade, gotten drunk and…Harry couldn't even think it.

"I'm sorry, Harry," said Neville, leaning against the wall. "I didn't think he was capable of that, either."

Ron and Hermione were both staring, speechless, at Harry, who wouldn't look at them. But then two other people stepped into the room, and Sirius did indeed have a woman with him.

"Barbara!" Hermione cried.

Harry felt his mouth drop open. Yes, it was Barbara, and she was smiling. So was Sirius. Harry, Ron and Hermione all scrambled up to her, demanding an explanation.

"Calm down, everyone," said Sirius, and Harry was not just relieved but overjoyed to see that the light had finally come back into his eyes. "We've got some good news for you."

"Is it that Barbara's pregnant?" Hermione asked. She was now smiling, too.

"Wha—how did you—?" Barbara looked confounded.

"Well, the only people who can see and enter Hogwarts are people who have a magic gene," Hermione began. "And since Barbara's a Muggle, the only way she could have a magic gene inside of her is if she was impregnated by a wizard."

"She's right," said Sirius in shock. "Barbara and I are indeed expecting a baby."

"Oh, congratulations!" Hermione shrieked, and she ran up to Barbara, hugging her tight. "This is _so_ great…When are you due? Do you know what kind of baby it's going to be?"

"I'm due September 12, 1992," said Barbara, "and it was a bit too early to tell whether it will be a boy or a girl. But we can find out in another month or so."

"And I'm going to build a crib, and I'm going to paint it either pink or blue, and we're going to turn the guest room into a baby room, and we're going to babyproof the whole flat, and we're going to get to see the baby again—by the way, did you know I got this awesome picture?"

Sirius's eyes were wet again, but this time with happy tears, and Harry laughed at how excited he seemed. He looked at the picture Sirius was holding out, and so did Hermione, Ron and Neville.

"Um…what are we supposed to be looking at?" said Ron.

"It's a _sonogram_ , Ron," said Hermione, rolling her eyes. "Can't you see the baby?"

Harry squinted at the black and white photo.

"I see it!" he said, pointing. "See that, right there? That's the baby!"

"Muggle technology is amazing," Sirius said enthusiastically. "We got to hear the baby's heartbeat and see it swimming around—"

"I don't think swimming is the right word," said Barbara, grinning. "But it was moving a lot, and the doctor said the heartbeat was really strong."

"And then Sirius told you he was a wizard?" Harry asked.

"Yeah," said Barbara. "I was really shocked at first, of course, and I thought he was playing a joke on me. But then he showed me some magic, and he showed me how his motorcycle flies—can you believe it? Then he said he could show me Hogwarts, because if our baby had a magic gene I would be able to see it, too."

"You might also be capable of accidental magic now, too," Hermione told her. "But it will be very rudimentary, since you haven't had any training."

"That's amazing," said Barbara.

"So where are you going to be staying?" Ron asked. "Sirius's teacher's quarters, right?"

"Of course." Barbara nodded, and Sirius put his arm around her waist. "I thought I would stay here with you lot for a week or so and then I could go home this weekend. We were just going to head back to Sirius's quarters now—but Sirius, you said you wanted to catch up with Harry before we left?"

"Yes," said Sirius, kissing her on the cheek. "You go on without me—take this Map. My place is labeled as 'Professor Kettleburn's Quarters', because that's who lived there when the Map was written."

Barbara took the Marauder's Map from him and looked at it with wide eyes, then used the Map to find her way to Sirius's teacher's quarters. Neville, Ron and Hermione headed off to bed, while Sirius and Harry sat in some armchairs near the fire.

"So, how was it?" Harry asked, smiling. "Didn't I tell you everything was going to be okay?"

"Yeah, you did." Sirius was smiling too. "It was really great. I have to admit, I actually did cry a little when I heard that heartbeat. I just couldn't believe it, you know? My own little baby…and someday it will be born, and I'll get to hold it in my arms. I know that machine works with science and not magic, but it was still a little magical."

"The baby will be born once the school year starts up again," Harry reminded him. "So you'll need to get home really quickly when the baby comes."

"Well, actually, Barbara and I were thinking we might move into Hogsmeade over the summer, so Barbara and the baby can be close to Hogwarts," Sirius said.

"Can Muggles see Hogsmeade?"

"Yeah, they can, unlike Hogwarts," Sirius replied. "Most of them just don't know where it is, that's all."

"I think Barbara's life will be a lot more exciting now," said Harry. "And it'll be great to live in Hogsmeade. I won't even have to take the school train to get to Hogwarts. I'd just have to go through that shortcut in Honeydukes you showed me."

"Just make sure you meet the other students in the Great Hall," Sirius told him, then yawned. "Blimey, it's been a long day…I'd better go meet Barbara in the teacher's quarters, make sure she got there okay…"

"Hmm…" Harry voiced something he'd been wondering. "Can you still shag her when she's pregnant?"

"Like you wouldn't believe," said Sirius. "Those pregnancy hormones—well, you'll find they make her almost insatiable."

"That was way more than I needed to hear, but okay," said Harry. "Have fun, I guess."


	59. Barbara's Worries

As far as Harry could tell, Barbara was greatly enjoying her week at Hogwarts. She loved to hear about his classes, and they even let her try on the Sorting Hat, which told her that if she'd gone to Hogwarts, she would have been in Hufflepuff. She and Sirius were already looking at homes for sale in Hogsmeade. Barbara said that since she'd lived in her parents' flat all her life and then her own, it would be the first time she had ever lived in a house—or, indeed, a small, quaint village like Hogsmeade.

On Friday, after Care of Magical Creatures, Harry went to visit her and Sirius in Sirius's quarters. He was telling her about Herbology, because that was the class Hufflepuffs were supposed to be good at.

"I don't think I'd be good at it, though," Barbara said thoughtfully. "I've never really had a 'green thumb', so to speak. I bet I'd be good at Potions, though. It can't be that different from cooking."

"It's really not, actually," Harry agreed. "Snape says Muggles can't make Potions. But I bet you could do it while you're pregnant."

"And even if you weren't good at Herbology, it's very Hufflepuff to be good with food," Sirius added, then stood up. "Speaking of…I need to go to the bathroom for a minute. You two just stay here and chat, okay?"

Harry and Barbara had been getting along, but as soon as Sirius had left the room, things got a little uncomfortable. It was like one of those times where two people have a mutual friend, but once that mutual friend leaves, there's nothing much to talk about. Finally, Harry attempted to fill the terrible silence.

"So, um…are you excited to be a mother?" he said awkwardly.

"Of course I am," said Barbara, but then she sighed and added, "I just don't think I'm going to be very good at it."

Harry was surprised Barbara would tell him something that personal. He turned to look at her intently and asked, "What do you mean?"

"Well, I just see how Sirius is so excited, and he's so ready to be a father—I know he'll be a great one," she told him. "And then there's me…"

It was obvious to Harry that Sirius had Barbara totally fooled. He was completely nervous about being a father, and he hadn't let on one bit, probably because he didn't want to worry her. For a minute Harry wondered if he should tell Barbara how Sirius really felt, but then he figured Sirius had told him that in confidence, and it was Sirius's choice to share with Barbara, not Harry's.

"What _about_ you?" said Harry. "You're not ready?"

"I don't think so," she replied sadly. "I've never been very good at most traditional mum-things, like cleaning, gardening, entertaining or interior design. When we looked at houses in Hogsmeade, I didn't know what I was doing. I know how to do laundry, but in the winter my clothes always have static on them, and I'm terrible at folding. I don't know how my mother ever got them so neat. And when something of mine gets a bad stain on it, usually I end up just throwing it out. I don't know how to change diapers or make babies stop crying. I've never even babysat."

"But you're amazing at cooking," Harry pointed out. "It's important for a mother to be good at cooking, isn't it?"

"Yeah." Barbara nodded. "And it's not something I'm just good at, either—I really enjoy it. That's the time when I feel the most…myself."

"Right," said Harry. "And as for all the other stuff, you can learn it, or Sirius can help you. Plus, my Aunt Petunia had a trick for getting the static out of clothes. She would just rub them with lotion before she put them away."

Harry couldn't believe he was sharing his aunt's homemaker tips with anyone, but if it made Barbara feel better, he would do it.

"There are also all these decisions," Barbara continued, "like I think I started lactating a couple days ago—"

"What?" said Harry.

"It means my breasts have started making milk," she said. "That's why they hurt so much in the first trimester. I also have to pee all the time and I feel really bloated and crampy."

"Well, I didn't know that," said Harry, not wanting to tell her she'd given him a bit too much detail.

"I agree with what my godmother says, which is that it's the mother's choice and you have no right to tell her either way," Barbara continued, "but I don't know what I'll choose."

" _What's_ the mother's choice?" Harry asked.

"Whether to breastfeed or bottle-feed," Barbara explained. "Sirius said he'd be happy to feed our baby a bottle, and he also said that using magic, he can get bottles to refill themselves."

"Like how his hair potions refill themselves, you mean?"

"I guess so," she said. "But now that you've told me that, I need to steal some of those. Considering how long and thick my hair is, you can imagine I go through shampoo and conditioner quite quickly. I always buy those salon-size bottles, but it's never enough."

"I'll let him know," Harry promised. He could sympathize with anyone who had hair issues.

"But my worst fear," Barbara said abruptly, and her voice was shaking, "isn't that I won't be able to change a diaper or that our house will be dirty. What I'm afraid of is that when the baby grows up, it'll hate me—or at the very least, I won't be able to relate to it. I'm hoping it'll be like the sort of relationship you have with Sirius, but what if we're not close? I don't think I could take it."

"There's no reason for your new baby to hate you," Harry told her. "I know you'll love it a lot."

"I'm going to be the worst mother _ever!"_ Barbara declared, and to Harry's alarm, she began to cry.

Harry wasn't really sure what to do. It wasn't a complete surprise, considering the pregnant women he saw on TV were always having crazy mood swings, for whatever reason. But how was he supposed to get Barbara to stop crying? He and Barbara had never been very close, but still, he felt bad, watching her sit on the couch and cry. Finally, he found something that he thought might work.

"Don't cry, Barbara," he said, putting his arms around her. "You're the closest thing to a mother I've ever had."

Almost an instant later, Harry wished he hadn't added that last part, since it only made her cry more.

"I'm sure you won't be the worst mother ever," he added, thinking of Sirius's mother. "As long as you love the baby, it'll be fine. And I _know_ that nobody will love this baby more than you and Sirius will."

Barbara hugged Harry back, tightly, and tousled his hair. For some reason he found he didn't mind as much this time. She didn't smell like lavender perfume anymore; in fact, she smelled a little like sweat, which he figured maybe had something to do with her being pregnant.

"Oh, you're such a sweet kid, Harry," Barbara said tearfully. "I can see why Sirius thinks so highly of you."

"He does?"

"Of course," Barbara said. "He loves you until the ends of the Earth. And I love you too."

Harry had only half-meant it when he told Barbara she was the closest thing to a mother he had ever had. She had always been a little irresponsible, and she and Harry weren't exactly best friends. Nothing about her really seemed that motherly, to be honest. But then, maybe it didn't need to. He didn't really have another "mother figure" in his life, and she obviously had grown to care for him. Most importantly, for the first time since he had known her, he now felt safe in her arms. And maybe that was what being a mother was all about.

"I love you too, Barbara," he said, and his voice wasn't the steadiest it had ever been. He wasn't going to cry in front of her, though. They weren't _that_ close.

Then they heard someone say, "How long was I in there?"

Both Harry and Barbara turned their heads at once to see Sirius, who had just stepped into the drawing room and was watching them, smiling, his arms crossed.

"Oh…hi, Siri," Barbara said shakily. Sirius's smile faded a little when he saw that her cheeks were streaked with tears.

"Were you crying, honey?" he asked, climbing onto the couch. Harry moved away, so she and Sirius could be next to each other.

"No," she said defensively, but then she started crying again.

"What's the matter?" asked Sirius, putting his arm around her and looking a little concerned.

"Barbara was afraid she would be the worst mother ever," Harry explained. "I was telling her she wouldn't be."

"You can't be the worst mother ever," said Sirius, trying to make a joke of it. "My mother has already secured that title."

"But except for cooking, I can't do any mother things," she told him. "I can't clean house properly—you've seen my flat, it's a total mess. And I've never changed a diaper in my life."

"I can clean the house by magic," Sirius reminded her. "And as for the diapers, it's easy once you get the hang of it. Ever wiped your own ass? It's not that different."

Barbara finally let out a shaky laugh.

"Thanks, Siri," she said. "You always know how to cheer me up."

"Anything for my baby," he told her, giving her a gentle hug and smoothing her long dark hair.

"Which one?" she asked jokingly, and they both laughed, until Barbara screamed, "Oh!"

"What?" said Sirius anxiously, pulling away.

"I swear I felt—some…some kind of movement!" she cried.

"Like a _kick?"_ Sirius asked incredulously.

"No, no, more like a…like a fluttery little thing…"

And for the third time that day, Barbara started to cry, burying her face in Sirius's robes, but this time it was because she was so happy. Sirius hugged her again, looking like he couldn't wipe the smile off his face.

"It's a baby," she sobbed, holding tightly onto Sirius. "It's our wonderful little baby."

"I know, honey, I know," said Sirius, rubbing her back. Tears shone in his gray eyes, but they were so full of life.

"Well, I'm going to get some rest," Barbara said finally, after she had managed to stop crying.

"Tell us if it moves again, please," said Harry, as she got up from the couch.

"Will do." Barbara gave them a watery smile, then left.

"I've never seen Barbara so emotional," said Harry, once she had disappeared into the bedroom.

"I guess it's because she's pregnant," said Sirius, shrugging. "It seems you just have to let her get it out. Since I'm not the one in the family way, I might as well try to make it easier for her."

"How do you know?" Harry asked.

"Well, I checked out a book on it from the Muggle library," Sirius told him. "And even though most of that stuff I didn't know, it was really quite amazing. I remember I was reading about this hormone that's designed to keep the baby safe when it was really small, and for some reason it struck me so hard right then. Like this chemical thingy is designed _just for that purpose_ , so that a tiny unborn baby, just the size of your fingertip, will be safe. And even though it doesn't always go okay, just the fact that the human body is capable of something like that…well, life really _is_ a miracle. From now on, I don't think I'll be able to take one single breath for granted ever again."


	60. Discovery

Barbara left that Sunday evening with Sirius. As she left, Harry, Ron and Hermione all hugged her goodbye. Hermione wanted to hug the baby goodbye, too (she had been extremely excited when Harry told her about the movement, which Barbara said was called "quickening").

"I've really enjoyed my time here at Hogwarts," Barbara told them, beaming. "And I can't wait to live in Hogsmeade. It seems so much nicer than Muggle London, somehow."

"We'll move this summer," Sirius promised. "Before the baby comes, though."

"Right," said Barbara. "That way we have time to set up a nursery for it in the new house."

Harry just couldn't even say how happy he was to hear that. He liked living in a flat with Sirius very much, but there was just something about them living in a house…They would be a mother, a father, and two kids. Just like a real family. There would even be a new baby to play with when Harry wasn't at school. His heart flew then and he hugged both Sirius and Barbara extra tight.

"I'll be the best big brother ever," he promised.

"I don't doubt it for a minute," Barbara said, laughing.

"Want something to eat on the ride home?" Ron asked, handing a Chocolate Frog to Barbara. "I hear pregnant ladies get hungry easily."

"For chocolate, especially," said Barbara gleefully, and she opened it. "Ooh, there's a card inside…"

"Could I have it, please?" Harry asked her. "I collect them."

"Certainly." Barbara handed the card over. Harry pocketed it without looking at what it was, because he wanted to watch Sirius and Barbara until they were gone from his sight.

"You probably shouldn't hug Barbara so tightly," Ron said after they had left. "You'll probably squish the baby."

"That's impossible, Ron," Hermione told him. "It's cushioned by her uterus _and_ the placenta, not to mention her body. There's no way a hug is going to squish a baby that's fourteen weeks along."

"If you say so," said Ron. "Harry, look at the Chocolate Frog card and see who it is."

"Dumbledore again," Harry observed, taking the card out of his pocket. "He was the first one I ever—"

But then, Harry read over the description, and a certain name rang a bell.

" _I've found him!"_ Harry told Ron and Hermione. "I've found Flamel! I _told_ you I'd read the name somewhere before, I read it on the train coming here—listen to this: 'Dumbledore is particularly famou for his defeat of the Dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, _and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicholas Flamel'!"_

Ron and Hermione listened in shock. When Harry was done reading, Hermione stood up, told them to stay where they were, and ran up to the girls' dorms. When she came back, she was holding the book Harry had gotten for her as a Christmas gift.

" _Famous Witches and Wizards Throughout History_ ," Harry read. "What are you doing with that book?"

"I think he'll be in here," she said happily, and began turning through the pages quickly until she found the information she wanted. Then she cried, "I knew it! I _knew_ it!"

"You knew what?" asked Harry.

"Nicholas Flamel," Hermione began, "is the _only known maker of the Sorcerer's Stone!"_

"The what?" Harry and Ron said together.

"Oh, _honestly_ , don't you two read? Look—read that, there."

Harry and Ron looked at the passage Hermione was pointing to, and they read it.

 _The ancient study of alchemy is concerned with making the Sorcerer's Stone, a legendary substance with astonishing powers. The Stone will transform any metal into pure gold. It also produces the Elixir of Life, which will make the drinker immortal. There have been many reports of the Sorcerer's Stone over the centuries, but the only Stone currently in existence belongs to Mr. Nicolas Flamel, the noted alchemist and opera lover. Mr. Flamel, who cele rated his six hundred and sixty-fifth birthday last year, enjoys a quiet life in Devon with his wife, Perenelle (six hundred and fifty-eight)._

"That's what the dog's guarding," Hermione told them. "Nicolas Flamel had it in Gringotts, but he knew it wasn't safe in there anymore, so he asked Dumbledore to keep it at Hogwarts for him."

"And no wonder Snape wants the Sorcerer's Stone," said Harry in wonder. "Anyone would."

…

Sirius, to everyone's delight, was getting into the Offensive Magic unit of Defense Against the Dark Arts class now. None of the Gryffindors were really taking Quirrell's classes seriously anymore, because he was too afraid to teach. Harry didn't understand how he had even gotten the job in the first place, but then, Dumbledore seemed to be fine with strange hires.

It was a good thing Sirius had rudimentary Healing Magic skills, because, well, he also had good teaching skills. Sure, they had learned Defensive Magic first, but some "bumps and bruises" along the way were unavoidable.

Harry was always Hermione's partner, so more often than not he would be on the receiving end of whatever hex or jinx she was practicing on him. They were being encouraged to practice nonverbal magic, which was another specialty of Sirius's, so Harry didn't know what spell Hermione was going to fire at him. He used "Protego" a lot, but he did use offensive magic against her, too.

Ron was usually partnered with Neville. Neither of them were that great at magic. Sirius seemed to think that for this, at least, it wasn't a good idea to pair the talented kids with the not-so-talented ones. Hermione was good at almost everything, and Harry had a special knack for Defense Against the Dark Arts, so they weren't partnering up _just_ because they were "going together". Sirius would usually practice with one of the sixth or seventh years, although there weren't that many of those. Harry noticed that Holly Greengrass was extremely talented.

One spell Harry was working on was the Knee-Reversing Hex. It was a little difficult to work, but after some time he managed to accomplish it. Hermione's kneecaps did indeed reverse, and she fell right down.

"Now try it while I'm walking backwards," Hermione said, after the hex was reversed.

"You want me to hex you in the back?" said Harry in disbelief.

"Well, like Sirius said, your enemy wouldn't hesitate to do it to you," she said, shrugging. "And you can always fix me again later."

Hermione turned around and walked backwards towards Harry. The curse worked again. As soon as her kneecaps switched, her legs buckled and she fell to the floor.

"I really think you've got it now!" she told him excitedly.

And they spent the rest of the evening hexing each other, until Sirius, who had been practice-dueling Holly, laughingly told them it was time to pack up.


	61. Bonding

Several weeks later, Harry finished Care of Magical Creatures on a high note. They were studying owl care that day, and everyone had enjoyed it. True, owls weren't magical creatures, but since wizardkind used them often, Sirius was of the opinion that the class should learn the proper way to treat them. They spent the class learning about things like broken wings and how to fix them, and what to feed owls, and how to know when they've had too many owl treats.

Harry usually hung back to talk to Sirius after class, but he couldn't because Snape had given them a huge amount of Potions homework, and Sirius had given them Defense Against the Dark Arts homework. Harry had to write one full roll of parchment describing three spells he would be likely to use in a duel—and he couldn't use _Expelliarmus_ , because they had to be strictly _offensive_ spells. Snape had given him three rolls of parchment on how to make an Anti-Motion Sickness Potion, because Harry's Anti-Motion Sickness Potion that day hadn't been such a winner.

So after Care of Magical Creatures class, Harry hit the library with Ron and Hermione. Of course, Hermione was the only one who was actually into studying. Harry was doing Snape's essay first because he wanted to get it over with, but his mind kept drifting. Take two spoonfuls of bat's blood and one strand of unicorn hair, then add two cups of water and put it in the cauldron and let it simmer for…how long? And at what temperature? How could _anyone_ find this interesting? Barbara was right—it _did_ sound like a cookbook.

Maybe Harry could switch to Sirius's essay…that would surely be easier. Or not. Harry couldn't think of any spells he would actually do, because _Expelliarmus_ was the only one he would ever use in a duel.

"How about the Leg-Locker Curse?" Hermione suggested.

"He's not going to let me write about that," said Harry. "I've done it so many times. It has to be something new."

"Well, maybe he can give you a note to get into the Restricted Section, and you can look up some good spells in there!" Ron said excitedly.

Harry looked out the window. It was the first nice day they'd had in a long time.

"I'd like to go flying," he said wistfully. "Maybe if I just did my homework tomorrow…"

"You'll put it off until the last minute, you know," said Hermione strictly.

"Come on, Hermione, give us a break," Ron chimed in. "Our brains are all tapped out from studying. They'll be fresh tomorrow."

Hermione looked skeptical, but she could see she was going to be overruled. So she told Harry and Ron to go on without her. Harry and Ron took turns on Harry's Nimbus, and when it started to get dark, Ron went up to the dorms and Harry headed to Sirius's teacher's quarters. Mostly he just wanted to see Sirius, but he also wanted to make sure Sirius had kicked his drinking problem for real.

"Sirius! It's me!" said Harry, pounding on the door.

"It's open!" Sirius hollered, although his voice was a little muffled.

"Okay, thanks," said Harry, opening the door. "You know, you really should have assigned an easier essay, I couldn't even—"

Harry stopped talking in shock. Sirius was on the floor, a hammer held tight in his wand hand. Random slabs of plywood surrounded him, and he was hammering nails into them, seemingly at random. His hair was messy and he looked tired. He got another nail, then tried to hammer it into the board. There was a sickening thump.

"FUCK!" Sirius shouted, all the nails falling out of his mouth.

"Did you hammer your finger?" Harry asked.

"Only for the third time today," Sirius told him furiously. "Holy shit, that hurts!"

"May I ask what on Earth you're doing?" said Harry, looking around at the random boards of wood.

"I'm _trying_ to build a crib, for the baby," Sirius explained. "But it's not going too well."

"You could build one in about two seconds with magic, Sirius," Harry pointed out. "Why don't you just do that?"

"Because this is my very first gift for the baby, and I want it to be made with love, not magic," Sirius said. "Doesn't that make it more special? Especially if the baby's mother is a Muggle?"

"You'd think," said Harry. "But if the baby tries to sleep in _that_ crib, all the nails will puncture its skin."

"Well, aren't you just a ray of sunshine," said Sirius, grabbing three boards and trying to hammer the first two into the third (or that's what it looked like he was doing). But instead he accidentally hammered his finger again.

"OWWWW! _FUCK!"_ Sirius shouted, nursing his finger and sticking it in his mouth. "How do Muggles _do_ shit like this?!"

"Uncle Vernon used to do DIY home-improvement stuff on the weekends," Harry told Sirius, remembering. "But, you know, he'd use an electric power drill and stuff like that."

"I haven't got an eclectic power drill," Sirius snapped.

"Electric," Harry corrected.

"Whatever," said Sirius. "Even if I did have one, it wouldn't work at Hogwarts."

"Oh, right." Harry nodded. "I forgot about that."

Sirius's face suddenly fell.

"I'm such a failure as a father," he said, a little pitifully. "I can't build a crib for my own baby."

"Not every guy is handy, Sirius," Harry said, placing one hand on Sirius's shoulder. "Especially if they've used magic all their lives."

"I _could_ build a crib in about two seconds using magic," Sirius told him sadly. "But I want the gift to be handmade. Like I said, it's just more special that way."

"Well, there's got to be _some_ way you could build it," said Harry. "Hmm…oh, I know! Why don't you ask Barbara's dad to help you? He's a Muggle, I bet he's done a ton of DIY projects."

"I can't ask Barbara's father to help me, are you nuts?"

"Why can't you ask him?"

"Remember the fate of Barbara's _last_ boyfriend?" Sirius said dryly.

"But that was Jackson," Harry reminded him. "He deserved it."

"No, he deserved worse," Sirius corrected. "If I ever meet him, I'll hex him into next Tuesday."

"That aside," said Harry, exasperated, "why can't you ask Mr. Raffelovich to help you with the crib?"

"He doesn't like me, remember?" said Sirius. "When we were at dinner he gave me crap about not having a job, and he's a cop, so I don't know how to tell him I was in prison for a decade. I'm sure he thinks I'm going to do what Jackson did and break his daughter's heart, and he's made it clear that if I break her heart, he'll break my jaw."

"But how can he think that?" said Harry. "She's, like, how many weeks along now?"

"Sixteen." Sirius sighed. "But maybe he thinks that once she gets _really_ pregnant, like so much that she can hardly do anything for herself, I won't be willing to do stuff like tie her shoes for her, or buy her food, or give her a backrub…I _am_ willing to do all that, everything, but after the whole fiasco with Jackson, how is he ever going to think I'm any different? I'll just turn up at their door—'Hey there! I'm the guy who's screwing your daughter!' That'll go down real well."

"Then this is the perfect opportunity to bond with him," Harry insisted, "especially because you'll never finish that crib on your own. And get him a ship-in-a-bottle."

"Why?" Sirius raised an eyebrow.

"Older men love crap like that," Harry told him knowingly. "I saw it on TV."

…

Sirius went away for the weekend, taking the piteous "crib" with him in his enchanted pockets. When he came back on Sunday evening, he looked ecstatic.

"How did it go?" Harry asked, beaming.

"It went great! We actually got along really well—and look!" Sirius pulled the crib out of his pocket. It truly was a beauty. It wasn't made of the flimsy plywood Sirius had procured, but rather real wood that looked like tree trunks, polished to a smooth, shining finish. There were four huge tree trunks as the main supporting beams, then the bars and handle too—low enough that you could place a baby in, but high enough so that the baby couldn't fall out. There was a beautiful satin mattress, too, white with yellow moons and stars, and a red blanket.

"That's great, Sirius!" Harry told him sincerely. "I love it! But where did you get that wood?"

"Well, Robert's father lives in the country on a farm, and he let us cut down some trees," Sirius explained. "Then the three of us built the crib. Barbara's grandfather had a whole garage full of DIY stuff, he had a drill and a saw and all kinds of things. And you know…after talking to Robert…he's not really a bad guy. I could kind of see where he was coming from with the job thing, too."

"You _could?"_ Harry asked in disbelief.

"Well, sure." Sirius shrugged. "I mean, he really loves Barbara, and he's not going to be around forever. He just wants to make sure she's well taken care of. I'm sure if I have a daughter, I'll feel the same way. He gave me a lot of advice about being a father—after all, he's been one for twenty-five years now. Barbara just turned twenty-five last February. He and his father told me all these great stories about when Barbara was a little girl."

"Did you convince him you weren't another Jackson?"

"I think so," said Sirius. "I told him what I thought of Jackson, and he agreed with me. We decided that if we ever saw Jackson again, we could take turns beating him to a pulp. And when it comes to taking care of Barbara, I didn't give him a chance to ask—I told him about how I would love nothing more than to cater to her every need, and that since she was having the baby, the least I could do, as the father, would be to make her lot a little easier until the baby is born, since pregnancy is hard. Then Robert told me that while Barbara's mother was pregnant sometimes she wouldn't be able to get up off the toilet by herself, and I still said I'd help Barbara no matter what. So that seemed to convince him."

"If taking your pregnant girlfriend to the toilet and back isn't loyalty, what is?" said Harry, even though personally, he thought that may be a little beyond the call of duty.

"Thanks, Harry," said Sirius. "It was really great, like I said. He loved the ship-in-a-bottle, and it was just like a bonding day…the sort of thing I never had with my father."

"Now you get to start over again with Mr. Raffelovich," said Harry. Sirius put his arm around Harry's shoulders, and they stood back to look at the beautiful crib—a crib made with love, not magic.


	62. The Crib

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: I'm sorry I'm so late with this! I've had a very busy week and this is kind of a long chapter. But it's here now, so enjoy! (P.S. It's an outtake, in Sirius's point-of-view, not Harry's like the rest of the story.)**

…

With a roar, Sirius's flying motorcycle landed on the pavement in front of what he knew to be the building where his girlfriend Barbara's parents lived. She had given him their address, although since the crib was supposed to be a surprise, he hadn't told her why.

Sirius landed, parked, and turned off the Invisibility Booster. Then he took his gift out of his enchanted pockets.

Sirius's pockets were bewitched to hold not just normal things like his wallet and keys, but also any manner of things he wanted to shove in there, including (among other things) a change of clothes, luggage, a telephone, Harry's stuffed reindeer toy, food, and in this case, a ship-in-a-bottle. That had also been Harry's idea, and Sirius could quote, "Older men love crap like that."

But would he? Sirius walked into the building and rode all the way up to the fourth floor, where Officer and Mrs. Raffelovich lived. Barbara had told him her mother's favorite flowers were tulips, so Sirius performed one of his special spells, _Orchideous_ , and produced a bouquet of tulips. Sirius knew never to call on a lady without flowers.

Sirius felt incredibly nervous as he walked to the door of the Raffelovich family's flat and knocked twice on the door. Instead of his biker gear, he was wearing a crisp white button-down shirt and a red-and-gold Gryffindor tie; he also had dress pants, dress socks and dress shoes. He knew James would have said he looked like an overgrown schoolboy, and he personally agreed, but looking like an overgrown schoolboy was better than looking like someone Officer Raffelovich would like to put in handcuffs.

The door swung open and there was Barbara's father, Officer Raffelovich, still in his police uniform. Maybe he had just finished patrolling? Sirius quickly held the ship-in-a-bottle behind his back; for some reason, he wanted to wait.

"I-I brought these for Mrs. Raffelovich," he said, stumbling over his words. "Did you have a good shift?"

Sirius wasn't taking his eyes off the gun in Officer Raffelovich's belt. It was the first time he had ever seen a gun in person. He didn't know what it felt like to be shot by one, and he didn't want to find out.

"Oh, yes, wonderful," Officer Raffelovich said sarcastically. "Just a convenience store being held up and then some drug-smuggling scum. Pleasant."

"At least nobody died," said Sirius. He was sure Officer Raffelovich could sense the fear in his voice. Barbara was the only girlfriend of Sirius's whose father he had ever met.

Officer Raffelovich glared.

"I brought you a gift," Sirius offered, holding out the ship-in-a-bottle, wishing he wouldn't sweat so much. He didn't want pit stains on his nice white shirt.

"Why…a ship-in-a-bottle?" Officer Raffelovich's eyes widened.

"It's okay if you don't like it," Sirius said helplessly. "I just thought…an original gift, y'know…"

"No, it's just…" Officer Raffelovich opened the door and gestured for Sirius to come inside. "How on Earth did you know?"

Sirius's mouth fell open in shock. Officer Raffelovich had _loads_ of ships-in-bottles. Sinking ones, ones with flags, ones with sails, submarines…It was an impressive collection. Officer Raffelovich gingerly took the newest addition out of Sirius's arms.

"None of the ships in my collection are as beautiful as this one," he said admiringly. "My grandfather had one like this when I was just a boy. Wherever did you find it?"

"Antiques shop," Sirius said, shrugging. Actually, he had conjured it out of thin air, but of course he couldn't tell Officer Raffelovich that.

Officer Raffelovich set the ship-in-a-bottle on the mantle over the fireplace, then grabbed the flowers.

"And you say these are for my wife?" he continued. "How did you know tulips are her favorites?"

"Barbara told me," said Sirius. "She didn't tell me about the ships-in-bottles, though."

"That's because she thinks it's embarrassing," Officer Raffelovich explained. "Whenever she had her friends over as a teenager, she always hid my ships so nobody could see them."

"I think these are awesome," Sirius said. "I guess you and Barbara have different tastes. She's got no problem digging into some bacon, for example—"

"What?!" Officer Raffelovich suddenly looked furious. "Barbara has told us not a molecule of pork has ever touched her lips!"

Sirius suddenly wanted to evaporate on the spot. Oh no…this was a disaster…But then Officer Raffelovich laughed.

"I'm just _joking_ ," he said. "We know Barbara stopped keeping Kosher four years ago. Listen, son, would it make you feel better if I took my shotgun out of my belt?"

"Loads," Sirius said in relief. "Thank you."

"Gwen!" Officer Raffelovich called, taking the gun off his belt and setting it on the mantle next to the new ship. "Guess who's here…"

"Sirius!" Gwendolyn Raffelovich beamed. Sirius knew she had suddenly liked him a lot more ever since she found out he was rich. "How nice of you to drop by!"

"Tulips, Gwen," said Officer Raffelovich, handing them to her. "Your favorites."

"These tulips are just beautiful!" Mrs. Raffelovich sniffed them deeply. "Now, can I get you two men anything to drink?"

"Brandy for me, please, darling," said Officer Raffelovich. "You?"

Sirius really wanted an alcoholic drink, mainly to ease the tension of the meeting. But last time he and Officer Raffelovich had been together, Sirius had knocked back five Singapore Slings in the space of two hours. He had gotten really, really drunk and kind of felt guilty about it, especially because he was going to be a father soon. He should have liked to not take anything, but he knew it would be rude to refuse Mrs. Raffelovich's hospitality.

"Just—just water, please," he told her through clenched teeth.

"Unbelievable," said Officer Raffelovich. "When we all went out to dinner together, you definitely would have failed the test if I'd had my Breathalyzer on me."

Sirius had no clue what a Breathalyzer was, but he decided he probably shouldn't ask.

"I've been trying to kick my drinking habit," he said. "I need to be more responsible if I'm going to be a good father. I'm not an alcoholic, but I can be a heavy drinker at times of weakness. I just need to stop turning to alcohol when what I really need is a hug."

That last part was actually just something Sirius had heard his psychiatrist, Dr. Stefansen, say, but it seemed to work with Officer Raffelovich.

"An honorable cause," he replied quietly. "If we had less drunk-drivers on the streets, my job would be that much easier."

"I've _never_ driven drunk," Sirius said honestly.

"Anyway…" Officer Raffelovich sighed. "I'm guessing you didn't stop by just to say hello. What did you need?"

"Well, it's just…" Sirius bit his lip. "I-I wanted to make a crib, as a gift for the baby, and as a surprise for Barbara when we move into our new house. But I'm not handy at all…I don't know where to start…I was wondering if maybe you could help."

Officer Raffelovich stopped dead in his tracks. He stared into Sirius's eyes. It seemed like ages until he finally spoke, his words so quiet Sirius could hardly hear them.

"You…you really are in this for the long run, aren't you?" he whispered.

"Of course I am," said Sirius. "What made you think I wasn't?"

"Didn't Barbara tell you about Jackson?"

"Well, yes, but I'm not Jackson," Sirius reminded him. "Why does everyone think I'll leave like he did? On the contrary, I think if you and I ever saw Jackson again, maybe the two of us could take turns beating him to a bloody pulp. Barbara told me you gave him a bloody nose."

"Actually, I broke that son-of-a-bitch's nose," Officer Raffelovich said. "I'd have loved to run him in for sex offender charges, but unfortunately, she let him do… _that_ …to her."

"Trust me," said Sirius, "I don't like thinking about it any more than you do."

"To be honest, when I first found out she was pregnant again, I could have shot you," Officer Raffelovich told him. "But then…but then you _stayed_. You came home from that school you teach at to see her. You gave her that medicine to get rid of her hyperemesis gravidarum. You went to the sonogram with her. Hell, you even gave up drinking for her and the baby, and I know how hard that must be."

"It's really hard," Sirius admitted. "But the thought of my family is enough to keep me from falling off the wagon."

"Just the start is something," Officer Raffelovich replied. "Now, about that crib…My father owns a farm in the country. We might go there to get the wood, and he's excellent at building things. He even built his own house. It's a bit of a drive, but we should be there in about three hours. He lives in Yorkshire."

"I've always wanted to see Yorkshire," said Sirius truthfully. He hadn't seen much of the world, and he was eager to, now that his name was cleared.

"Well, you're going to," said Officer Raffelovich.

And soon enough, there they were in the patrol car, driving along. The silence was awful, but when they stopped at a red light, it became almost unbearable. To break the tension more than anything, Sirius pointed out a restaurant to the right side of the road. It stood out from the other shops, mostly because it had a long line of people waiting to get in, so long it spilled out the door.

"I haven't seen that place around here before," Sirius commented. "What is it?"

"Reggie's Pizza Empire," Officer Raffelovich replied. "The only place in England where you can get deep dish pizza."

"What's deep dish?"

"It's a special kind of pizza they only have in America," Officer Raffelovich said. "That is, until Reggie brought it to England. The shop opened up last January and it's taken London by storm. They're thinking of opening another one on the other side of London in June."

"Maybe we could eat there on the way back," Sirius offered.

"Wish I could," said Officer Raffelovich. "But you need to make a reservation at least a day in advance for that place. It's always packed. I don't know how Reggie gets through the day without tearing his hair out, the poor bloke."

"But he's an American, isn't he?"

"Yep." Officer Raffelovich nodded. "It's like a little piece of his native Chicago, brought over to England. There's nothing like a nice deep-dish pizza with Polish sausage to satisfy your hunger."

Sirius was vaguely curious about Reggie's Pizza Empire, and he thought maybe he should like to eat there someday, but the overcrowded pizza parlor was put out of his mind when the light finally changed and they were driving again, out of London and towards the countryside. His nerves were coming back, too. He secretly wished they could drive with the siren on, because that might be fun, plus they could go through red lights, but he thought it might seem childish to ask. So instead, he tried to ask something more mature.

"Officer Raffelovich—" Sirius began.

"You can call me Robert, you know," he said.

"Okay. Robert…" Sirius took a deep breath in. "I just wanted to know…what did you first think? You know, when you first found out Mrs. Raffelovich was pregnant with Barbara?"

"Well, we'd been trying to have a baby, so I expect it was less of, well, less of a _shock_ for us than it was for you," said Robert, looking sideways at Sirius. "But no matter how hard you're trying for a baby, you're still pleasantly surprised…She called the non-emergency hotline and asked for me, and I teared up right there in the station. They let me go home early to see her. We were just so _happy_ to finally be parents."

Sirius didn't think he should tell Robert he was nervous about fatherhood. It seemed Robert had been totally prepared for it.

"You know, Black, you can relax already," Robert said finally. "You're riding in the front seat. Did I tell you about your right to remain silent or something?"

"No," said Sirius, remembering the day the magical authorities had led him away. That was another thing he hadn't told Robert about—that he used to be in prison. Would Robert even believe that he had been framed? For all those years, nobody had.

"I think," said Robert, "we can all agree that the moment the baby is conceived, that is, the moment the mother becomes pregnant, is when the woman becomes a mother—that, I suppose, or the day the baby is born."

"Yeah," said Sirius. "So?"

"Well, throughout history, motherhood has been pretty clear that way, because of course the mothers carry the children inside them for all those months," Robert replied. "But fathers, like you and me? We don't. So that's why the line on fatherhood can be so much fuzzier. There's a moment in every father's life when he transforms from just a man who impregnated a woman to a real father, and that moment often is not when the baby takes its first breath of life, or even when you hold the baby for the first time and she wraps her little baby hand around your finger and she stares up into your eyes and they're the exact same hazel as yours…" Robert cleared his throat. "Sorry."

"That's okay," said Sirius. "If you don't mind me asking…when was that moment for you? After twenty-five years, you must know…"

"I do," said Robert. "I knew it the moment it happened to me."

"What was it?" asked Sirius.

"Naturally, it was a moment when I was on the force," Robert began. "You see, Gwen was about twenty weeks along, and we had just found out the weekend before that we were going to have a little girl. Anyway, only a couple nights later, when I was on-duty, I found myself facing a drug dealer. And the minute he saw me, he drew a .22-caliber rifle on me. Now, no regular bulletproof vest is going to protect much against that."

Sirius thought of what he might do if someone drew a wand on him. Before, it was easy. He would just duel them. But now…would he really be above just begging for his life? If he died, who would look after Barbara and Harry and the new baby? _Please_ … _I have a girlfriend and two kids…Dads don't duel_ …

"The bullet ended up in my ribs," said Robert. "That hurt more than anything you could possibly imagine. Thank goodness I had another police officer on hand to call for the ambulance…I was sure I'd be DOA—"

"What's DOA?"

"Dead on arrival," said Robert darkly. "As they were strapping me in and putting me into the back of the ambulance…I just couldn't give up hope, not with Gwen and little Barbara, who I hadn't even gotten to meet yet. So I prayed… _Please, God, let me live long enough to meet my baby girl_. It was all I was wishing before I blacked out. Next thing you know, I had woken up in the hospital and there was Gwen and all the doctors and the police, and they said I gave them quite a scare, but I would be all right."

"What happened to the guy who shot you?" Sirius asked.

"They booked him." Robert sighed and nodded. "That bullet is still in me. In my ribcage. But anyway, it was at that moment…when I realized I was going to live, and Gwen held me close and we both felt little Barbara kick…I think that was the moment I became a father. Something really just clicked then."

Sirius just didn't know what to say after hearing an amazing story like that. Robert smiled at him for a moment.

"So," he said, "did you have a moment like that?"

Another memory, then, was rising to the surface of Sirius's mind…

" _I've never seen Barbara so emotional," said Harry, once Barbara had disappeared into the bedroom._

" _I guess it's because she's pregnant," said Sirius, shrugging. "It seems you just have to let her get it out. Since I'm not the one in the family way, I might as well try to make it easier for her."_

" _How do you know?" Harry asked._

" _Well, I checked out a book on it from the Muggle library," Sirius told him. "And even though most of that stuff I didn't know, it was really quite amazing. I remember I was reading about this hormone that's designed to keep the baby safe when it's really small, and for some reason it struck me so hard right then. Like this chemical thingy is designed just for that purpose, so that a tiny unborn baby, just the size of your fingertip, will be safe. And even though it doesn't always go okay, just the fact that the human body is capable of something like that…well, life really is a miracle. From now on, I don't think I'll be able to take one single breath for granted ever again."_

Sirius told Robert about this realization.

"It wasn't anything near-fatal, like your story," said Sirius. "But still, before that I guess I thought pregnancy was…some sort of accident, you know? Or something that Barbara might not be able to deal with. But then, reading that, I realized that you may call it an accident for a couple like Barbara and myself, since we weren't planning for a baby per se, but it isn't an accident or a foreign intruder or some kind of parasite. It's the most natural thing in the world. And her body is already built for it."

"You know, at first I wasn't sure if I approved of you, Mr. Black," said Robert. "I suppose it wasn't really your fault—Barbara hasn't exactly had the best taste in boyfriends in the past. But I should've given you a chance. I'm glad I did. Because, as they say, ding-dong, I was wrong."

"I can understand, now, though," Sirius told him. "I'm sure with my own kid I'll feel the same way. You just love Barbara a real lot…and you want to make sure she's well taken care of."

"That's why the father walks the bride up the aisle," Robert explained. "To give her away to the groom."

"You don't have to worry, though…Robert," Sirius told him. "I mean, it's more to me than just not abandoning her. I'll do anything for her. I understand that when she gets a little bit more pregnant, she won't be able to do stuff like tie her shoes or buy groceries or maybe even sit up…so I can do all that for her."

"I must warn you," said Robert, "when Gwen was really pregnant, she couldn't even get up off the toilet sometimes."

"Like I said," Sirius repeated, "I'll do _anything_."

Robert smiled and kept driving. After some time, he asked, "Have you talked to your own father about any of this, Mr. Black?"

"Can't," said Sirius shortly. "He died when I was nineteen."

"Dear God, that's horrible." Robert looked shocked. "I'm so sorry. No one should have to lose their father that young."

"It's okay," Sirius mumbled. "My dad was never around, anyway."

Robert pursed his lips and sighed. He looked sympathetic to Sirius.

"I suppose I was lucky," he said. "My dad was around all the time. He taught me the importance of hard work, dedication and family. And when you grow up on the farm, like I did, hard work is definitely a big part of your life."

"And your dad's still around," said Sirius. "He's going to be on the farm, isn't he?"

"Yes." Robert nodded. "My mother will be, too. We'll surprise them. It's funny because Dad's always teasing me about being one of the 'city folk', but he and my mother always love to see their family."

"Well, I'm glad," Sirius said. "Every baby needs a loving family."

…

After a lot of driving, they finally arrived at Robert's father's farm in Yorkshire. Sirius was eager to leave his seat after sitting in the car for so long. He could count the number of car rides he had taken in his life on one hand, and in any case, those had been magical cars. They had ways of getting to places faster than Muggle cars did (leapfrogging traffic, for example, or shrinking between cars). Sirius had traveled all-Muggle. It was kind of cool, in a way, but it also gave him extreme butt stiffness, which he could live without.

"You okay?" Robert asked, looking slightly concerned.

"Yeah," said Sirius, who could barely walk. "I just don't usually go on car rides this long."

"Well, focus more on the farm!" said Robert, gesturing.

Sirius was impressed. Robert's father's farm really was beautiful. It was just like the quaint farms he saw when he watched TV with Harry (which they had done a lot of at the Dursleys' before Harry had moved out). There was a barn, cows crazing peacefully in the fields, massive rows of corn, and a farmhouse. There were even some woods on the property.

"OY! DAD!" Robert called. "SURPRISE!"

"Robbie boy!"

Sirius then spotted the old man who could only be Robert's father. He was wearing denim overalls, a plaid shirt, work boots and a hat. His fingers were red and raw from working hard.

"It's planting season," he said. "Did you come here to help?"

"Actually, Dad, I came with a DIY wood-building project," Robert said brightly. "You see…you're going to be a great-grandfather. Surprise!"

"What?!" Robert's father looked shocked. "Oh—wait until I tell Rachel!"

"Rachel?" said Sirius. "Is that your mother?"

"Yeah," said Robert. "My dad's Richard."

Just then, Robert and his parents came rushing out of the house. Robert's mother had tears streaming from her eyes.

"Is it true?" she gasped. "Am I going to be a great-grandma?"

"The greatest grandma ever!" Sirius said jokingly.

"Aw, hug it out!" she said tearfully, and embraced him. Her hug was very tight.

"Where's Randy, Dad?" asked Robert.

"Working in the fields." Richard gestured towards their long cornrows. "Likes the quiet life, Randy."

"Who's Randy?" Sirius asked.

"My younger brother," Robert explained. "He still helps Dad on the farm."

"These old bones aren't what they used to be," said Richard, shrugging, but smiling.

"Mr. and Mrs. Raffelovich," Sirius began as politely as he could, but Rachel cut him off.

"You just call us Mama and Papa, dear," she said, reaching up to give his shoulder a little pat. She had to stand on her tiptoes, because Sirius was a good six or seven inches taller than she was.

"Wow, you sure are nice," said Sirius. Farm people were usually nice on TV; he supposed it was just another of their values. But it was a little jarring, still, even after all these years, for Sirius to come home to someone who treated him this warmly.

"And you are so polite," Rachel replied. "You'll be my great-grandchild's father, then, I suppose?"

"Yes, I will," said Sirius. "In fact, that's why we came here today. I thought maybe we could build a crib for the baby."

"Sounds great!" said Richard. "See those woods over there? I own that land, so we can cut down some trees and use the logs to make the crib. I have a whole garage full of DIY stuff! Just wait until you see all my tools!"

"I'll get a gas mask to protect myself from all the testostetone," Rachel said jokingly.

"I think you mean testosterone," said Sirius. "But, yeah. We'll need a lot of it."

…

Sirius liked to go into the woods to chop down some trees with Robert and Richard. They enlisted Randy (who turned out to be a huge guy) to help carry the logs back to the garage, which was where Richard kept all his DIY stuff. Randy went back to work in the fields (Sirius got the idea he wasn't very sociable) and they set the logs on the ground.

Richard had safety gloves and glasses for all three of them. Sirius felt kind of sheepish, thinking of how he had simply tried to build a crib with nothing but plywood, a hammer and some nails. Richard had all kinds of things. Richard began to work on the frame, while Robert helped Sirius make the railings. Sirius had to admit that Richard was doing most of the complicated work while Robert and Sirius handled the simpler tasks, but Sirius was glad to know that he was helping, and that after all, this crib had been his idea.

"It's still hard to believe Barbara is having a baby," Richard commented, wiping sweat off his brow and setting his drill down for a moment. "It seems like just yesterday I held her in my arms for the very first time."

Sirius looked closely at Richard's eyes. They were the exact same golden-hazel as Barbara's, and, indeed, the same as Robert's, too.

"Yes, our little girl's all grown up," Robert agreed. "She's moving to Scotland, too."

"Scotland?" Richard asked. "Why?"

"I teach at a boarding school there," Sirius explained, "and there's a beautiful little village nearby called Hogsmeade. It's a great place to raise a child."

"So it's a safe neighborhood, I assume?" Richard asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, yes," Sirius told him. "And don't worry. I would protect Barbara with my life, you know."

"I'm sure Rachel will make us some hot chocolate when we're done with this here crib," Richard said as he looked at Sirius and Robert's railings, making sure they were even. "Then maybe we can look through some of Barbara's baby photos."

"She would never forgive us," Robert said jokingly. "She thinks those are embarrassing."

"Are you kidding?" Sirius grinned. "I'd _love_ to see them."

…

Hours later, the crib was finally finished. Sirius, Robert and Richard all took off their protective gear and stared at it in awe. They would need a mattress, of course, but Sirius could buy one of those on the way back to Hogwarts. They went inside the farmhouse, and Rachel already had hot chocolate waiting for them. Richard went to fetch the photo albums.

"I have another surprise," Rachel told them.

"What is it?" asked Robert, taking a sip of his hot chocolate.

"As soon as I found out I was having a great-grandchild, I began sewing a quilt for it," she said gleefully, wiping her hands on her apron. "You'll have to tell me whether it's a girl or a boy, Sirius, so I can add the patches accordingly."

"We still don't know yet," Sirius replied, "but we will in just a month."

Richard came back into the kitchen with the photo albums then. Sirius was so excited to look through them.

"There's Barbara on her third birthday," Robert said, pointing her out.

Sirius smiled. Barbara was wearing a yellow ballerina outfit, complete with satin yellow ballet slippers and a tiara, and her hair was in two little black pigtails. There was a picture of Robert holding her up as she blew out the candles (he was younger-looking and had more hair), pictures of her opening her presents, a picture of her mother giving her a kiss…

In one of the older photo albums, Robert got a little choked up at a picture he found. It was him and a newborn baby. Sirius knew who it was.

"February 27, 1967," he told Sirius. "The happiest day of my life—well, besides the day I married Gwendolyn Goldberg, that is."

After eating the hot chocolate and many hugs goodbye, Richard helped Robert and Sirius load the crib into the trunk of Robert's police cruiser. Sirius planned to stop at a baby store and pick out a mattress as soon as he had gone and the crib was stuffed safely into one of his pockets. As they drove out of the countryside and towards London, Robert turned to Sirius and smiled.

"Want to drive with the siren on?"

"Like you wouldn't believe," Sirius told him, grinning, and they got home a lot faster like that."

…

 **Hey everyone, I hope you liked my little outtake! Let me know what you thought!**


	63. Horror in the Forest

The next two weeks went relatively smoothly. Barbara visited a couple more times, and by now you could tell _something_ was different, or as she put it, "I look less like I'm pregnant and more like I need to lay off the bacon." Harry sometimes had trouble determining whether certain women he saw were pregnant or just fat, but he knew it was rude to ask them.

"So two weeks until we can tell its gender, right?" Harry asked.

"Right," said Sirius.

"Can you feel it kicking yet?" Hermione asked eagerly. "Can _we?"_

"No kicking yet…but it does feel like butterflies are fluttering inside me, sort of," Barbara said thoughtfully. "I don't think anyone else will be able to feel it until way later, though."

Harry, Ron and Hermione went out onto the grounds to wave goodbye as Sirius took Barbara home. They kept waving until the motorcycle was obscured by the moon and the two of them were gone. Since it wasn't even seven yet, they decided to stay out on the grounds and talk a little. They used Harry's Invisibility Cloak to nick some food from the kitchens, and then decided to have dinner by the lakeside instead of in the Great Hall. It was more peaceful and less crowded; sometimes you just needed to get away from it all.

It had been possibly an hour, or a little more, when they noticed someone creeping out of the castle, towards the forest. Since the person had a cloak on, it was impossible to determine his features, but Harry could tell from the figure's walk that it was Snape. He wasted no time in pointing this out to Ron and Hermione.

"Well, come on," said Ron. "We've still got the Cloak on us, let's see what he's up to."

Hermione looked hesitant and bit her lip. She had already been a little uncomfortable about the food-stealing, and now they were going to go into the forest at night?

"He's trying to steal the Sorcerer's Stone, remember?" Harry reminded her. "We're probably the only ones who know that. We _have_ to follow him."

Hermione reluctantly allowed Harry to throw the Cloak over the three of them, and they hurried as best they could after Snape, who was now running. Completely invisible, they followed him until he stopped to talk to someone. To all three of their amazement, it was Quirrell.

"I d-don't know why you wanted t-t-to meet here of all p-places, Severus," he was stuttering.

"Oh, I thought we'd keep this private. Students aren't supposed to know about the Sorcerer's Stone, after all."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked at each other in alarm. It was just as Harry thought. Even after Snape had found it in his heart to make Potiogravida to cure Barbara, he _still_ wanted the Sorcerer's Stone for himself.

"Have you found out how to get past that beast of Hagrid's yet?" Snape continued.

"B-b-but Severus, I—"

"You don't want me as your enemy, Quirrell."

"I-I don't know what you—"

"You know perfectly well what I mean."

The three of them missed part of the conversation when an owl hooted annoyingly loudly. By the time it was done, they heard Snape saying, "your little bit of hocus-pocus. I'm waiting."

"B-but I d-d-don't—"

"Very well," said Snape. "We'll have another little chat soon, when you've had time to think things over and decided where your loyalties lie."

Snape re-cloaked himself and left the clearing, narrowly missing Harry, Ron and Hermione in the Cloak. Quirrell stared after him for at least five full minutes, looking terrified, compulsively straightening his turban. Then, finally, he left as well, trembling. Once he was sure both of them were gone, Harry took the Invisibility Cloak off.

"What was _that_ all about?" said Ron.

"This is proof we're right," Harry told him. "Snape _is_ trying to steal the Stone, and now he's trying to force Quirrell to help him get it."

"And when he mentioned that 'beast of Hagrid's'…he must have meant that three-headed dog," Hermione added pensively. "I suppose that's how Hagrid's helping Dumbledore guard the Stone."

"There are probably a bunch of spells guarding it, not just the dog," said Harry. "Loads of enchantments, probably, and Quirrell would have done some anti-Dark Arts spell that Snape needs to break through—"

"What's that?" Ron interrupted. Harry looked, and he was pointing down at the ground.

"Unicorn blood!" said Hermione, sounding horrified.

It didn't look like blood. It looked silvery-blue, almost metallic, and it was glowing slightly, either of its own accord or because of the moonlight that shone on it.

"It's everywhere," Harry pointed out, looking around the clearing.

Maybe it wasn't everywhere, but it did look like whichever unicorn shed the blood had been staggering around in pain. Blood was scattered on leaves, twigs, trees and the ground alike. Harry's eyes followed the trail of blood. It went deeper into the forest, and his curiosity, as it so often did, was unfortunately winning the battle with his common sense.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Harry whispered, admittedly more to Ron than to Hermione.

"What are you thinking?" said Ron.

"I'm thinking should follow it, see where it leads."

"No!" hissed Hermione, as Ron was about to nod eagerly. "There's no way I'm doing that! It's dangerous, it's against school rules—"

Harry remembered how his last fight with Hermione had been about breaking rules. But that had been back in October, and she had become more relaxed about the whole thing since.

"Rules are meant to be broken, Hermione," Ron insisted.

"Rules are meant to be _followed_ , Ron," she corrected him.

"Doesn't it depend on the rule?" said Harry. "I mean, this unicorn seems really hurt. Maybe we can save it. I'm sure Hagrid will know what to do. He seems good with animals, just like Sirius."

"What _would_ Sirius think?" Hermione asked.

"Well, whatever he thinks, he's got no right to lecture me about it, because he spent his entire time at school breaking rules under this very Cloak," Harry replied. "And he won't know anyway, because he's taking Barbara back to London. That's a long trip, even for a flying motorcycle. Now come on, let's do this thing."

Hermione sighed. "Fine…"

They followed the trail of blood deeper into the forest. It seemed to be getting thicker. Harry, Ron and Hermione jumped in fright when they heard a soft sound. It sounded like a cloak, as if someone was dragging it across the ground like a child drags a security blanket, but there were no footsteps. Hermione looked frightened, but they were in too deep to turn back now.

"Look," Harry said softly. Something white was shimmering on the ground. Hermione let out a stifled sort of sob. They had found the unicorn, which was already dead. The three of them just stood there, staring. The shock was just beginning to wear off when they heard the cloak-dragging noise again. Some bushes rustled, and then something crawled into sight.

Was it a human? It looked humanoid, and it was wearing a cloak, but it was crawling along the ground instead of walking. Harry realized why when it stopped at the unicorn. It bent its head down over the unicorn's bloody wound, lowered its hood, and began to drink.

Hermione screamed. The cloaked figure, startled by the noise, looked up, unicorn blood now staining the cloak. Its head turned from Hermione to Harry. When it saw him, it stood up and began walking. Walking towards _Harry_.

Ron looked like he didn't know whether to stay and help or to run for his life; Hermione was crying; Harry was paralyzed with fear for a moment and then…

Pain, so much pain. Harry stumbled backwards, clutching his scar, while Hermione screamed again and Ron took off. The figure was about to come for Harry and Hermione when they heard something else, something huge, crashing through the undergrowth at a high speed. They watched in horror as it hit the figure at full force, bowling it over. And when Harry, through the lessening pain in his head, realized what had attacked the figure, he realized it had no chance. Even in the darkness of the Forbidden Forest, that black dog was unmistakable.

Padfoot stayed by the unicorn for a moment, barking and growling, until the figure had gotten to its feet and fled, deep into the bowels of the forest. Then he transformed back to his human form. Hermione was breathing heavily, looking like she was about to faint.

"Sirius," Harry said in relief. "Thanks for that, I don't know what we would've—"

"Follow me! NOW!" Sirius interrupted him, but Harry and Hermione didn't have a chance to follow. Sirius grabbed Harry's arm in his left hand, Hermione's in his right, so tight the grip was almost painful. It was hard to keep up with him. Finally, they reached the edge of the Forbidden Forest. To Harry's shock, Professor McGonagall, looking livid herself, was waiting there, as was a white-faced Ron. Professor McGonagall was holding onto Ron's arm like Sirius was to Harry's and Hermione's. When they got to the edge of the forest, he released them.

"Sirius…what's going on?" Harry asked.

The expression on Sirius's face was one of pure fury.

"What's going on!" he shouted. "What in hell were you three thinking?!"

Harry started to feel awful all over again, and something told him Ron and Hermione felt the exact same way. One thing you _never_ wanted to do was make Sirius lose his temper, especially if you had broken a huge rule and were in the presence of Professor McGonagall as well.

They were screwed.


	64. Points Taken

"WELL?!" Sirius demanded, eyes flashing furiously. "Explain yourselves!"

Harry couldn't think of a word to say. Hermione had been right. He should've listened to his common sense and left the unicorn blood alone. Ron looked pale, and Hermione looked as if she might cry.

"I never would have believed it of any of you," Professor McGonagall added, fuming. "You, Miss Granger, I thought you had more sense. As for you, Mr. Potter, I thought Gryffindor meant more to you than this. All three of you will receive detentions."

"Not to mention sixty points from Gryffindor!" Sirius shouted.

"Sixty points?!" Ron gasped.

"Each," Professor McGonagall snapped angrily. To Harry's surprise, Sirius didn't even flinch. Nonetheless…

"Sirius, you—you want Gryffindor to win, don't you?" Harry asked, looking at his godfather with pleading eyes. But Sirius wasn't in a sympathetic mood.

"BIG PICTURE, HARRY!" he hollered, now pacing back and forth, arms in the air. "What if I hadn't been there? What if that—that _thing_ had gotten you? Do you think I'd be okay with you getting killed, as long as we won the House Cup?!"

"Don't…don't take points from Hermione, at least," Harry said in a quiet voice. "She tried to stop us going in there."

Harry swore he saw Sirius's angry expression falter for a moment, but then he just scowled again.

"Fine," he said. "Only thirty points will be taken from Hermione. She might have been trying to stop you, but she still went into the forest."

"Now, off to bed, the three of you," Professor McGonagall said. "I've never been more ashamed of Gryffindor students."

Hermione and Ron left abashedly. Harry was about to follow them when Sirius held him back. Before he could say anything, Harry spoke first.

"How can you get angry with me about this?" he cried. "You were in that forest every month at least!"

"D'you think I care?!" Sirius yelled. "What I care about is _your_ safety, and none of what your father and I did in our school days is going to change any of that!"

"How did you even find me, anyway?" Harry asked nervously.

"With this," Sirius said back, withdrawing the Marauder's Map out from within his robes. "I saw all three of your names on there, going deep into the forest."

"How did you see us?" Harry demanded. "We were under the Invisibility Cloak!"

"I know about the Cloak, and I also know that the Map reveals you, whether you're wearing a Cloak or not," Sirius said shortly. "After I put the Map away and went into the forest, I was able to find you as a dog by tracking your scent. Remember how I used to do it with teachers? Same exact thing."

"But you were taking Barbara to London…"

"It's barely two hours round-trip." Sirius put his hands on his hips. "I got back in time, and it's a lucky thing I did. If I hadn't found you, you'd probably be dead now."

"Sirius…" said Harry desperately. "150 points…you can't…"

"Yes, I can," said Sirius, "and not only that, but as your godfather, I'm going to have to wizard-ground you for a month."

" _What?!"_

"You heard me! During the day you are not allowed to leave the castle except for classes and you are not to leave Gryffindor Tower after eight p.m."

Sirius snapped his fingers, turned around, and stomped off. As soon as Sirius had snapped his fingers, Harry felt some sort of irresistible urge to run all the way up to Gryffindor Tower, almost as if his legs had a mind of their own. When he tried to get out again, he just felt like he was hitting an invisible wall, sort of like the one Sirius had used on the mirror room. Harry figured this must be the wizard-grounding.

Harry had the feeling Ron didn't want to talk, because he started fake-snoring soon after they had gotten into bed. Harry didn't think there was anything he could have said to Ron, anyway. They had gotten Hermione in trouble, they had lost 150 points for Gryffindor in one night, and, perhaps worst of all, Harry had never seen Sirius so angry with him.

…

The next couple of weeks were shrouded in misery. First, there was the wizard-grounding. Harry truly couldn't leave the castle during the day unless it was for class, and he had to go directly up to Gryffindor Tower every night after dinner. If he didn't make it to the tower in time, the wizard-grounding spell forced him to run there. The secret passageways out of Hogwarts were blocked, too, because that's what happens when a Marauder is the one to wizard-ground you. And even if Harry had found a way to get outside, the spell would've just pushed him right back in again. He found his dorm room was blocked so that Hermione couldn't get in, either.

And then there was the sudden nosedive his popularity had taken. It seemed Ron and Hermione were the only friends he had left…except maybe the Slytherins, who were congratulating him for basically securing them the House Cup again. Nobody on the Quidditch Team would talk to him, and instead of calling him by name, they called him "The Seeker".

Harry, Ron and Hermione were all assigned separate detentions, which was copying lines. They were forced to write _I will not risk my neck by entering the Forbidden Forest ever again_. Harry also had to write, _I will not give my godfather a heart attack before he's thirty-five_.

During his detention, copying the words over and over, Harry was given some time to think. It was a good idea, he decided, to stop poking his nose in other people's business. He also knew, to some extent, that Sirius was only being so harsh on him because Harry hadn't just broken a rule, he had nearly been killed, but that seemed to make it even worse, somehow. Sirius had rescued Harry from a miserable life at the Dursleys', and this was how Harry repaid him.


	65. Circumstantial Evidence

Every lesson was horrible for Harry. It seemed that even the _teachers_ weren't too fond of him. Sirius had been right—Houseism ran deep, whether teachers were supposed to take sides or not. Life at Hogwarts had really had become awful, because all the students openly being hateful, and the teachers only being nice because they had to, reminded him of primary school. At least here he had Ron and Hermione, but that was it. There may have been no Dudley, but there was Malfoy, and Harry hated Malfoy way more than he hated Dudley.

Harry had been avoiding Sirius at all costs. They weren't holding Defense Against the Dark Arts classes anymore, and the only time they ever really saw each other was during Care of Magical Creatures. It wasn't because Harry was angry with Sirius; on the contrary, he was ashamed of himself for letting Sirius down, and didn't want to talk to him at all. He was also sure Sirius was angry with him, until he was leaving Herbology one Wednesday and Sirius approached him.

"Could I have a word, Harry?" Sirius asked, stepping in front of him. Harry kept walking, not so much to avoid Sirius this time but because Sirius's spell was forcing him to walk inside now that class was over. Sirius followed him into the castle.

"I can't," Harry said. "I've got homework."

"Just a minute?" Sirius insisted, placing one hand on Harry's shoulder. "This is important."

"Fine." Harry looked down at the ground like it was extremely interesting. "What do you want?"

"Well…Barbara is on Week 20 of her pregnancy now, and we were wondering if you'd like to come to the Gender Reveal sonogram this weekend," Sirius said, all in one breath.

Harry was shocked for a moment, but then steadied himself.

"No thanks," he said, continuing to walk again. "I'm wizard-grounded, anyway."

"Nonsense, Harry, I can take the spell off for one weekend," said Sirius, keeping up with his godson.

"Don't bother." Harry picked up his pace and walked away, up to his dorm, even though the spell wouldn't be making him do that until eight.

"At least think about it, okay?" Sirius called after him, but Harry didn't answer.

…

In the common room that night, Harry told Ron and Hermione about Sirius's offer, and how there was no way he could go, now that he had risked his neck and caused Sirius to be angry with him. Sirius was still angry, he thought.

"Harry," said Hermione, "I think you should go."

"What?" Harry was surprised. "Why?"

"Well, because if there's one thing I've learned about Sirius, it's that he's a man of action," Hermione explained. "He's not so good at expressing how he feels through his words, so he does it through his actions instead. He's trying to make up with you. This is his way of saying it's all water under the bridge now."

"It's not, though," said Harry miserably. "The kids still hate me, the teachers still hate me, and I think Sirius does too."

"Sirius never hated you!" Ron looked shocked Harry would say such a thing. "You're his favorite person!"

"Tell him you'll go, Harry, please," Hermione pleaded. "I hate seeing you two like this. And don't you want to see your little baby brother or sister on the sonogram? What kind of big brother would you be if you didn't go?"

Perhaps it was the desperate look on her face, but Harry suddenly felt just a little more convinced.

"Okay," he mumbled. "I'll tell him."

…

For the first time in two weeks, Harry hung after Care of Magical Creatures class to talk to Sirius again. As soon as the other kids were filing back into the castle, Harry felt the spell making his legs want to go too. But he resisted with all his might, and pulled on Sirius's sleeve.

"What?" said Sirius in surprise. "Harry?"

"I-I'll go," Harry told him, not without a huge effort. Talking was hard because it was taking all his energy to resist the spell. It seemed Sirius could see that, because he snapped his fingers, and as soon as he did, Harry had control over his legs again.

"You have?" Sirius asked.

"Yeah," Harry said, his voice quavering. Now that he wasn't being magically forced to run inside the castle, he was becoming nervous…

"Thank you," said Sirius. "What…what changed your mind?"

"Well…what kind of big brother would I be if I didn't go?" Harry said, shrugging. Sirius sighed and ran his hand through his hair.

"Listen, Harry, I've been thinking," he said. "Do you remember how I told you that the point of punishment was that you learned your lesson?"

Harry nodded. He did remember that.

"Well, I'll make you a deal," said Sirius. "I'll end your wizard-grounding if you can tell me why I was so angry with you that night."

Harry thought. It wasn't because he'd broken a school rule, he knew that…Sirius didn't really have any business getting angry at anyone for breaking rules. That was why Professor McGonagall had been angry with Harry, but not Sirius.

"Because I risked my neck," said Harry quietly, looking down at the ground again. "Because that thing would probably have killed me if you hadn't gotten rid of it. You were just worried about me."

"I couldn't have put it better myself," Sirius said, his voice gentle. "Okay. Consider yourself un-grounded."

"I'm sorry, Sirius," Harry told him, then, remembering what Hermione said, "Can you ever forgive me?"

"Of course," said Sirius. "I already have."

It may have had something to do with his poor excuse for an upbringing, but Harry had always had trouble initiating hugs, and with the possible exception of Hermione, Sirius was the only person he really felt comfortable hugging. Even very shortly after they'd met, Harry had always found sanctuary in Sirius's hugs. Sirius had always been like the light in a storm, or like a warm blanket on a cold, rainy day.

This time, Harry didn't know who initiated the hug, but it didn't matter. All he knew was that he had missed Sirius _so_ much, and as he hugged his godfather probably a little tighter than was necessary, it felt like they had never fought at all. He felt Sirius ruffling his hair the way he liked, laughing a little, and he knew that even though almost everyone else at school hated him, Sirius loved him with all his heart, just like he always had, and Harry loved him too.

"Can I come back to your teacher's quarters for tea?" Harry asked hesitantly.

"I thought you'd never ask." Sirius smiled, and Harry followed as he left for the castle.

…

Sirius and Harry had catching up to do, but the topic eventually drifted to the night Harry had gone into the Forbidden Forest. Harry had some questions about that night, now that he was talking to Sirius again.

"I know you found me on the Marauder's Map," said Harry. "So if you were looking at the Map, you must have seen who…or _what_ …it was that tried to kill me."

"Well, actually not," said Sirius. "I put the Map away as soon as I saw your names, so I didn't see a name for that thing. I picked up the smell of dead unicorn, which wasn't pleasant. It was a little overpowering, but I could still tell that you, Ron and Hermione were there, and I figured you were under the Cloak, because when I'm a dog, I can smell people and things, even if I can't see them. Then there was a smell I didn't recognize, a really foul one, worse than the dead unicorn, and then there was the thing that drank the blood…I didn't see its name on the Map, like I said, but I think I have an idea of who it was, anyway."

"You _do?"_

"Yeah," said Sirius. "Listen, Harry…why do you think it was drinking the blood in the first place?"

"I…I don't know," said Harry. Now that he thought of it, drinking blood did seem kind of weird. "Maybe it was some kind of vampire?"

"No, it isn't that." Sirius shook his head. "You see, unicorn blood isn't like normal blood. It can keep you alive, even if you're hanging by a thread, hovering between life and death. But the thing is, you still have to kill the unicorn to get its blood, and when you do that, you're basically killing an innocent to save yourself. So drinking the blood will leave you morally bankrupt, with a corrupted soul. Your life will be cursed."

"But who'd be that desperate?" said Harry. "If you're going to be cursed forever, death's better, isn't it?"

"Not if you're afraid of death," Sirius told him darkly. "Not if your ultimate goal is to conquer death. Not if your name literally means 'flight from death'."

What was that Sirius had said, in their first Defense lesson, so long ago?

" _Voldemort's name is actually French, if you study the etymology," Sirius continued. "It means 'flight from death', roughly translated. So as you see, even at the height of his powers, Voldemort is the weak one, because he fears death. Meddling with life and death is not our place, as humans—thus, doing so is considered the Darkest of magic. Voldemort is just a coward, fleeing from something he can't control…"_

And then there was the book passage Hermione had shown Harry and Ron…

" _(The Sorcerer's Stone) also produces the Elixir of Life, which will make the drinker immortal…"_

"Sirius, are you saying that was _Voldemort?"_ Harry cried.

"I can't say for sure, but it's the only person I can think of who's really that desperate, as you put it."

Harry knew, then, he had to tell his godfather about the Sorcerer's Stone. He dished _everything_. He told Sirius all about the three-headed dog (although he did make it sound as though they had stumbled upon it during the daytime, not after hours), how they suspected Snape let the troll in on Halloween, how they had found Nicholas Flamel in Hermione's book, Snape's conversation with Quirrell and how they had suspected Snape was trying to steal the Stone and now…they knew why. It wasn't because Snape wanted to live forever and get rich. It was because he was planning on resurrecting Voldemort!

"You always said Snape was fascinated with the Dark Arts in school," Harry said, his throat dry. "And now we know he's a Death Eater."

"But why would Dumbledore hire someone who had once been a Death Eater?" Sirius was now pacing back and forth. "That's dropping the ball pretty badly!"

"Maybe he thought Snape changed."

"Well, he hasn't changed too much if he's helping Voldemort get the Stone, has he?" Sirius said in reply, looking extremely stressed, running his hands through his hair again. "And what is Dumbledore thinking, anyway? Why doesn't he just lock the Stone up in his office? Nobody can get in without the password."

"I wondered that, too," Harry told him.

"And as soon as Snape steals the Stone for him, Voldemort will be able to come back and…" Sirius suddenly hugged Harry again, sounding terrified. "Oh my God. We've got to go to Dumbledore."

"Dumbledore's not going to listen," Harry told him. "Everyone knows I hate Snape just as much as he hates me, and you two were old school enemies. And we don't even have any proof. It's all circumstantial evidence at best. Snape just has to say he didn't have anything to do with any of it. _You'll_ probably get fired, Sirius."

"I can't just let this happen, though!" Sirius looked beside himself now, and he still wouldn't let go of Harry. "You weren't there when he was alive, Harry, you don't know! I can't let Voldemort get his slimy white hands on the last Potter, I just can't!"

"Sirius, I've heard Dumbledore is the only one Voldemort ever feared," Harry told him. "There's no way he's going to try and do anything to me as long as Dumbledore's in the castle. That's why the Sorcerer's Stone is hidden in here, isn't it? And isn't that why Voldemort never tried to take over Hogwarts, even when he was strong and had a bunch of Death Eaters? And besides, God help anyone who tries to hurt me when you're around."

For a moment longer, Sirius hugged Harry tight, then finally let him go.

"Just promise me you'll be careful, Prongslet," he said. "Please."

"I promise," said Harry, and he was relieved when Sirius finally gave him a smile.


	66. One Big Happy Family

Since Sirius and Harry were both living at Hogwarts, for now Barbara was still living alone in her London flat, the way she had before she met Sirius, although her parents and godmother came by to visit frequently. Barbara planned to work for Mr. Glacier until Sirius left Hogwarts and she, Sirius, Harry and the baby would all be a happy family of four.

They had all agreed that their moving-to-Hogsmeade date should be "as soon as possible", not only because the further along Barbara got the harder it would be for her to move anywhere, but also because two males sharing a smallish, two-bathroom flat is most certainly a lot different than two males sharing a smallish, two-bathroom flat with one pregnant woman. Harry hoped Barbara wouldn't take his bathroom, because Sirius took more time in the bathroom due to his little "problem", and it usually didn't smell too great when he left.

Barbara thought this was somewhat amusing when they finally told her on the way to the sonogram appointment. Since it was impractical for all three of them to ride on the motorcycle, and neither Sirius nor Harry could actually drive, Barbara drove them in her car (she wasn't pregnant enough yet that the baby interfered with it). Harry liked Barbara's car, even if it was a bright-red Ford Fiesta, because it smelled good and gave a comfortable ride.

"You know," she said, "pregnancy causes constipation, too."

 _Well, then, you and Sirius have to share and the other bathroom is MINE_ , Harry thought, but he didn't say it.

"Oh really," said Sirius. "I didn't know that."

"Yeah." Barbara nodded understandingly. "It seems like you could sit on the toilet for hours and hours but then…nothing."

"Or like when you feel like you have to go, but it's really just gas pains and you don't have to at all," Sirius added.

"That's the worst," Barbara agreed, grinning at him.

Harry sighed and leaned his head against the window. It was taking a long time to get to the doctor. He wished Sirius and Barbara wouldn't discuss this sort of thing so openly, at least not in front of him, but at the same time, he figured maybe when you move in with a girl or a woman, things were different than if the two of you were just dating.

"You two sure don't seem embarrassed by that at all," Harry commented.

"I'm having a baby, and he's on prescription medication," Barbara said, giving some of her smile to Harry. "Both totally normal things…with some unfortunate side effects."

"Exactly," said Sirius. "What's there to be embarrassed about?"

"Well, I don't know," said Harry. "It's just…I would be really embarrassed if _I_ had constipation and my girlfriend found out about it."

"That's because you're so young and awkward," Barbara told him. "In time, it'll just be another thing to laugh about with her."

Sirius and Barbara laughed, and Harry glared at them. Barbara took another sip out of the water bottle in the cup holder.

"Why are you drinking so much water, anyway?" Harry asked, more to change the subject than anything else.

"You have to have a full bladder, or that's what the doctor told me," Barbara replied. "It helps her get a visual on all my lady organs."

"Wait, isn't that my job?" said Sirius jokingly. Harry groaned.

"I meant the ovaries and uterus, idiot," Barbara told Sirius, playfully flicking him in the head. "I think you ought to clean out your dirty mind."

"Oh, it's not just dirty. Now I'm as horny as a grindylow."

"As a _what?"_

"I'll tell you later."

It seemed like ages before the little red Ford finally pulled into a little clinic. It wasn't like the big hospital where Harry had been given his physical exams last summer. There was still the horribly overpowering smell, though, like a mixture of rubbing alcohol and hand sanitizer, that Harry now kind of associated with hospitals and clinics. He decided he would try to ignore it. Sirius and Barbara both had stronger senses of smell than his, Sirius because of his Animagus form (when he was a human, it was about twice as strong as a normal human's, whereas as a dog it was six times as strong), and apparently being pregnant gave Barbara a very good sense of smell, too. (Harry had a feeling that once he finished first year and moved in with Sirius and Barbara, he would learn a lot more about pregnancy, and about women in general, than he had ever imagined.)

"You know, you'll get to find out whether this will be a baby girl or a baby boy," Barbara reminded Harry as they waited for the doctor to be ready.

"We just look right at the screen and…there it is," said Sirius. "Or isn't."

"Hermione thought it was going to be a girl, and Ron thought it was going to be a boy," Harry told them. "So they bet ten Galleons, then Hermione wagered fifteen, then Ron wagered twenty. So now if it's a boy, Hermione owes Ron twenty Galleons, and if it's a girl, Ron has to pay Hermione twenty Galleons."

"And which kind of baby do you want, Harry?" Sirius asked.

"I don't care, as long as it's happy and healthy," Harry said sincerely.

"Oh, c'mon," said Barbara. "Every kid has a preference."

"Not me," said Harry. He was convinced that this baby would make their family 100% whole, and not only that, he was determined to be everything Dudley, the closest thing he ever had to a sibling, wasn't. He would be a great companion, and he would teach his little brother or sister everything he knew. He was going to be the best big brother in the history of the world, and that wasn't going to change.

When everything was finally ready, they got into the ultrasound room. The doctor knew Sirius to be the baby's father, then kindly asked Harry for his name. That was one thing he loved about the Muggle world, or at least appreciated—he wasn't a celebrity there.

"I'm Harry," he told her. "I'm the baby's big brother."

"Nice to meet you," she said kindly. "Now, I understand you two wanted to find out the sex?"

"Yeah, we want to be able to buy all our baby stuff accordingly," Barbara replied.

Sirius smiled. Harry knew Barbara's grandmother was sewing the baby a patchwork quilt as a surprise, but Barbara didn't know that. The crib was also to be a surprise.

Harry kind of had a feeling how this was going to go, since he'd seen ultrasounds happen on TV. It always seemed like an excuse for soap opera writers to put out a real sappy episode, and that was something Hermione and Harry loved to poke fun at.

Sirius and Barbara, however, were waiting for the results eagerly. Sirius was trying hard to hide his amazement with Muggle ultrasound technology—there really was no spell that would let you see your unborn baby inside you—and Harry knew this must be two-times-over miraculous for Barbara, considering what she'd lost four years ago.

"Well, there you go," said the doctor. Harry heard the smile in her voice. "That's your baby right there. Are you sure you want to know the sex?"

"We're sure," said Barbara, Harry and Sirius all at the same time.

"Very well." The doctor beamed. "Congratulations…you're going to have a little girl!"

"Oh my God!" Barbara squealed, and tears sprung to her eyes. "Sirius, we're having a girl, do you see?"

"I don't see anything," said Harry, looking at the screen. "I mean, it just looks like a blob to me."

"Look closely, Harry," Sirius told him, smiling. "See? She's just moving around a lot. There's her head, and her tummy, and her legs…"

"She's about the size of a large banana," the doctor added.

Harry looked at where Sirius's finger was pointing. He kind of had to squint, because his baby sister wouldn't stop moving around in there, but with some concentration, he could make out the shape of a head, the baby's legs, and amazingly, even some of her facial features.

"Oh…wow," said Harry. That was all he could say. It was so different from seeing it on TV. That was _his baby sister_ , thrashing around like a crazy person, and now that he knew what to look for, he could see her, and he thought she looked beautiful. His heart skipped a couple beats, and now he felt September 12 couldn't come soon enough. How he wanted to meet her…

Harry finally turned around and looked at Sirius and Barbara. They were both staring intently at the screen. Sirius had Barbara's hands clasped in his. They were both beaming.

"My daughter," Sirius choked, and he looked like he couldn't wipe the smile off his face. "I'm going to have a daughter."

"Not to mention you, Harry, you'll have a sister," Barbara added, finally managing to tear her hazel eyes away from the screen for a moment.

"And we'll all be one big happy family," Harry said, without even meaning to. He gave Sirius and Barbara one hug each, then hugged them both, and then they just stared and stared at the screen, just waiting for their newest addition to join them.

 **-to be continued-**


	67. Hand-to-Hand Combat

Harry had a lot going on as they sailed through May. For one thing, they were trying to decide on a name for the baby, now that they knew she was a girl. They had decided on Venus for a middle name, but Sirius and Barbara agreed that her first name should be more mainstream. Barbara was insistent on choosing a celestial name, which she thought was a wonderful tradition. But a good name was hard to find. Ron had admitted to Hermione that he didn't actually have twenty Galleons. She had been angry at first, but then decided he could pay her back gradually, because a bet is a bet.

It was also almost time for exams. Hermione was studying hard, which would have been fine, except she kept telling Harry and Ron to do it, too. It was hard to concentrate on studying when the weather was so nice outside, though, and you were going to have a baby sister in September.

Then, of course, there was Voldemort. Harry had convinced Sirius not to go to Dumbledore about all this, but he could still tell Sirius was worried. Since Sirius was a man of action, though, he decided to _do_ something about it. Several weeks after the sonogram, he insisted on starting up Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons again. This time, they would be doing hand-to-hand combat.

The students still weren't happy with Harry, he knew, but they were fine with Sirius, and they were bored with Quirrell's classes, especially the older students. And a lot of these kids didn't know squat about hand-to-hand combat. Sirius knew it because he had taken a class on it with Harry's father.

Harry brought his dueling gloves to the first lesson, but not his helmet. He thought it looked kind of silly on him. Ron and Hermione joined him.

"Are those _dueling gloves_ , Harry?" asked a voice from somewhere behind Harry. He turned to look, and it was Neville.

"Yeah, they are," said Harry. "Want to try them on?"

"Oh…I'd better not," he said nervously. "But maybe you could do a demonstration."

"I don't know…" Harry looked around nervously at the other Gryffindors.

"It's okay, Harry," said Hermione.

"Come on," added Ron, "we all want to see it."

"Well, all right." Harry frowned. "Sirius, do you want to help me demonstrate my dueling gloves?"

"Sure," said Sirius, rolling up his sleeves. "I'm going to send a non-fatal curse your way, all right? When I do, you stick out your fists, knuckles first, and try to block me. Got it?"

"Got it."

" _Locomotor Mortis!"_ Sirius yelled. Harry saw the jet of light heading towards him, but he stuck out his knuckles like Sirius instructed. The spell nearly rebounded on Sirius, but he quickly jumped out of the way.

"Awesome!" yelled Dean Thomas.

"Try another!" said Ron.

" _Petrificus Totalus!"_ Sirius shouted, sending another spell Harry's way—and Harry blocked it again. Harry wished his father had been wearing the dueling gloves the night he got killed, but then he remembered that _Avada Kedavra_ was probably too powerful of a spell for the gloves to block, anyway.

"I'll begin by reminding you," said Sirius as soon as class started, "that by knowing hand-to-hand combat during a duel, you already have an advantage. Most wizards, no matter how powerful they are, couldn't win a fistfight to save their lives. Some people say violence is never the answer…But I say it depends on the question."

Sirius winked and grinned. Several people laughed.

"I'm not saying you should just throw your wand aside and attack someone you're dueling," Sirius continued. "This is mainly both self-defense and attack moves should you ever lose your wand. This way you won't be helpless once you're Disarmed; you'll have one extra trick up your sleeve.

"Your ultimate goal should be to get your wand back as soon as possible, and if possible, your opponent's as well," Sirius told them. "But it means you have to be quick, and use whatever you've got on hand as a weapon. Once you're Disarmed, it won't be long before an unfriendly spell comes your way. You need to cripple your opponent's powers before this happens."

"But how?" asked Neville nervously, raising his hand. Harry knew he was worrying about dueling.

"One way is to get your opponent on the ground as quickly as possible, then get him to release your wand," said Sirius. "This may seem hard if he's taller than you are, or bigger in general. The secret here is to do something I call the Takedown, and it's all about _aiming for the legs_. I suppose I can't really do it to any of you, so—"

"Isn't this about learning Defense?" interrupted a voice from the back of the room. It was Holly.

"Excuse me?" said Sirius politely.

"I mean, you can do the takedown on me," said Holly. "I want everyone to see it in action, just in case they ever need it for reals."

"Well…I don't know…" Sirius seemed reluctant, but Holly walked up to him confidently.

" _Expelliarmus!"_ she said, and Sirius's wand flew out of his hand. She reached up and caught it. "All right, Professor Black…what are you going to do now?"

Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked at each other in shock.

"Holly, really, I don't feel comfortable doing this," said Sirius. "I could hurt you."

"Just do your Takedown on me and get your wand back," Holly said, rolling her eyes. "What, are you afraid you won't be able to do it?"

"Oh, all right," Sirius grouched. "Everyone, pay close attention. Holly, watch your head."

Sirius conjured up a mattress behind Holly. She raised her eyebrows. Then everyone gasped when they saw Sirius rush Holly and grab her around the ankles, pulling her feet out from underneath her. Holly went down and landed backwards onto the mattress.

"Don't let me get my wand back!" Sirius told her. She nodded and gripped it tightly, but Sirius grabbed her wrist, she shrieked, and her hand, as if acting by its own accord, dropped both Sirius's wand and her own. Sirius snatched them and held them up.

"This is about the time when, if we were really fighting, I would curse her," Sirius told everyone. "Now, who wants to try it?"

Holly got up, shocked.

"What did you _do?"_ she asked.

"I did the Takedown," Sirius told her.

"No, I mean, I was holding onto the wands really tightly," Holly said. "But then I just…let go. Is that some sort of wandless magic you did?"

"Ah, yes," Sirius said, grinning. "The pressure points. You see, everyone has certain areas of their body called pressure points, and if you press on the one in the wrist while someone's holding onto something, no matter how tight, that person will basically have no choice but to let go."

Sirius showed them where the wrist pressure point was, and made them all press it.

"There's also one in the neck, called the jugular," Sirius continued, pretend-chopping his neck. "Now, if you're close enough to your opponent, you can hit him there as well. Ideally, your hand-to-hand combat should be target-focused and use all your weight. Now, Holly…you do the Takedown on me."

Sirius used _Expelliarmus_ to Disarm Holly, then she did what he had done to her. It was a little more difficult, but if Harry had to guess, he would say that they weighed about the same amount, or maybe Holly weighed more (she had curves in all the right places, and those breasts had to account for at least one pound of body fat alone). Holly had a bit of trouble doing the Release, so eventually she ended up pinching his hand instead, which was a surprise move, and he let go.

"Good job, Holly," said Sirius, sitting up. "If the pressure points don't work, pinching is a good backup plan. How did you learn that?"

"You think I've never fought with my cousins?" Holly said, rolling her eyes. "The Pinch is _textbook_ , Professor Black."

" _All_ kids from big families end up being good at fighting," said Ron. "Take it from me."

"Yeah, except you usually lose," said George jokingly.

"It's true," said Sirius. "I roughhoused with my brother and my cousins a _lot_ when we were younger. Well, not Narcissa so much, she thought it was improper, but the others…"

"Aren't your cousins girls, though?" Harry reminded him.

"It didn't matter to any of us if they were girls," said Sirius, shrugging. "It was hurt or be hurt…especially with one of them in particular."

"I think he's right," said Holly. "You just saw a woman take down a man, after all!"

"On that note," said Sirius, "does anyone else want to try the Takedown?"

Most people did. Harry and Hermione practiced it on one another. Harry practiced the Takedown on Sirius, which didn't go so well (he guessed Holly weighed a lot more than he did), but after a few tries, he actually did it. Sirius said he was impressed.

After they had practiced more and the common room had cleared out, Sirius, Harry, Ron and Hermione sat in the armchairs near the fire.

"So, have you thought of a name for the baby yet?" Hermione asked.

"No," said Sirius. "We want a 'space name' for her, but we don't want it to be a crazy-sounding one. That's why we didn't make Venus her first name."

"So her middle name is a planet," said Harry. "Maybe her first name should be a moon, then."

"I don't know any moon names, though," Sirius told him. "At least, not off the top of my head. I took Astronomy a long time ago."

"It's okay, I do!" said Hermione brightly. "Venus doesn't have any moons. But there are a ton of other ones to choose from. Jupiter has 67, Saturn has 62, and Uranus has 27."

Not long after, they were looking through Hermione's Astronomy textbook for baby girl names. They looked through Jupiter's moons first, since it had the most and the book was in alphabetical order.

"We need one that sounds feminine, and not too weird," Sirius told them. "Something cute for a baby girl."

"How about Europa?" Ron suggested, pointing.

"Eh…maybe if she was, like, eighty years old," said Sirius.

Most of the feminine moon names were either old-ladyish, too out-there, or both. The names they couldn't pronounce (such as Aoede and Kallichore) weren't even considered. They briefly considered Chaldene, Eukelade and Ananke, but eventually those names got the boot. None of the Jovian moons ended up having suitable names, so they flipped to Saturn next (it had the second-biggest amount of moons).

"They're here in order of size, largest to smallest," Ron observed. "The biggest is Titan…nah, that's _way_ too masculine."

They went through some more boy names—Enceladus, Mimas, and Iapetus—until they finally reached the first female-sounding name, Dione.

"Dione," said Hermione. "That's kind of pretty."

"Well, yeah, but it's just going to look like we were trying to do an alternative spelling of 'Diane'," said Sirius, "and alternative spellings always kind of annoyed me. Plus, I shagged a girl named Diane a couple times in school, so there's no way I'm naming my daughter that."

"Pandora?" said Harry.

"That's Luna Lovegood's mother who died," said Sirius. "I wouldn't."

"Rhea…another old lady one," said Ron. "Huh…what's next?"

"Phoebe," Harry told him, pointing.

Sirius cocked his head to one side and raised one eyebrow in thought.

"Hmm," he said, stroking his chin. "Phoebe."

"I like it," said Hermione. "It's mainstream, it's not hard to pronounce, and it's not old-ladyish."

"It's okay by me, too," Ron agreed.

"What do you think, Harry?" Sirius asked, smiling at Harry.

"I think it's great!" said Harry. "Do you have the sonogram picture, Sirius?"

"Of course," said Sirius, pulling it out of the pocket of his robes.

"Yep," said Harry, looking over the photo. "Looks like a Phoebe to me, all right."

"Very well," said Sirius, grinning from ear to ear. "I'll send an owl to Barbara first thing tomorrow morning. If she likes it…well, say hello to Phoebe Venus Black."


	68. Flavor

**HEY READERS! I'm sorry I took so long to post this! What with school starting up again and work, it's been a hectic week! Anyway, I'm sorry about this and will try to post Chapter 69 sooner. For now, here is Chapter 68.**

Exams were coming. And in only one week! Harry, Ron and Hermione were majorly stressed out, just like all the other students at Hogwarts. Hermione informed Harry and Ron that they needed to pass their exams to get into second year, which didn't help matters.

So on the twenty-ninth, the last Friday before their exams, Harry was relieved to find that he might be able to relax a bit.

"Harry," said Sirius, grabbing Harry's shoulder and turning him around as he made to leave class. "Listen...how would you like to have dinner out with Barbara and me tomorrow night? There's this nice place in London, and Barbara tells me the food is great. I thought you might like a little break from your studying."

"Oh, boy, would I!" said Harry. "But...what's the occasion?"

"Okay...remember that really awful dinner we had with Barbara's parents last summer?" Sirius asked.

"How could I forget?"

"Well, you see, everybody involved agreed that it was kind of a disaster," Sirius said. "So we were thinking we'd kind of have a do-over. Start things fresh. I get along better with her parents now."

"I guess that's all right," said Harry hesitantly. Barbara's parents hadn't been rude to him personally, after all, and things were better now that he and Barbara had warmed up to each other. Plus, Phoebe would be joining them...sort of. "Which restaurant?"

"It's this American pizza place that opened up last January, and it's the most popular eatery in the city," Sirius replied. "You have to get a reservation at least a day in advance, that's how popular it is, but luckily, Barbara made the reservation."

"What's it called?" asked Harry.

"Reggie's Pizza Empire," said Sirius, grinning.

...

The next day was exciting for Harry. Of course, he spent Saturday morning studying, but around four in the afternoon, he and Sirius got onto the motorcycle and flew off to London. It was the longest flight Harry had ever taken on the motorcyle (one hour) but since he liked flying, it wasn't a problem at all.

When Sirius and Harry finally reached Barbara's flat, Sirius touched down, turned off the Invisibility Booster, made flowers come out of his wand, and they rode up to her floor. Harry noticed that her building was better than Sirius's old flat, but not as good as the one he shared with Harry now, although Harry knew that their new house in Hogsmeade would be the best of all. They walked and walked until they finally reached Barbara's door. Sirius knocked.

Barbara was wearing her dark hair down. She was wearing Sirius's pearl necklace and a pink-and-black maternity dress. The shirt part at the top was black, with short sleeves, and starting just before the baby bump was a pretty baby-pink skirt. Her nails were painted white.

"Good evening, darling," said Sirius, handing the flowers to her. "You look very nice."

"Thank you, Sirius," Barbara replied, smiling. "You and Harry do, too."

Sirius and Harry hadn't dressed up quite as much this time, since (according to Barbara) it wasn't advisable to wear fancy clothes to a pizza place. This time they both wore long-sleeve button-downs and dark jeans. Harry had followed Sirius's lead and not tucked in his shirt. Boys at school were supposed to tuck in their shirts, but Sirius and James had stopped doing that by second year (just to be rebellious) and then of course every boy was doing it.

"So...where are Gwen and Robert?" Sirius asked.

"I'll take you two to their flat in my car," Barbara told them, beaming at the fact that Sirius was on a first-name basis with her parents now. "Come on, Harry, do you want to ride shotgun this time?"

"Yeah, I do!" Harry said happily. He could count the number of times he'd ridden shotgun on only one hand.

Less than ten minutes later, the bright-red Ford Fiesta was heading through the traffic of downtown London. Like Sirius, Barbara had to pay for a parking space near her building, since parking was scarce in the city. When they got to Barbara's parents' building, Gwen and Robert Raffelovich were waiting outside already. Barbara beeped the horn, and they climbed inside, on either side of Sirius.

"Good evening, Officer and Mrs. Raffelovich," said Harry politely.

"So polite," said Gwen. "You're raising a fine boy, Sirius."

Harry was glad she didn't see his face turning red. To change the subject, he asked Sirius if Remus was coming, too.

"You know it," said Sirius. "He's meeting us there."

"Oh, good," said Harry happily. To him, Remus was family too, just like Sirius.

"I'm glad I'm going with you lot," said Sirius, grinning. "Otherwise I wouldn't have any family at that restaurant…or anyone I knew at all."

…

Since they were already in downtown London, it didn't take long to arrive at Reggie's Pizza Empire. As usual, the line of people waiting to get in was extremely long; typical on a Saturday night, it stretched all the way down the block. Waitstaff were walking up and down the line, handing out free samples of what looked like bread—but it was a weird kind of bread, unlike any Harry had seen before. It looked extremely buttery and there was garnish on it.

"What kind of bread is that?" Harry asked, pointing at the free sample.

"Garlic bread," Barbara told him. "They're free samples. Why don't you go try one? Get one for me, too, please."

"I don't know," Harry said nervously. He didn't want to approach a stranger, even if it was just a waiter.

"They won't hurt you," Sirius reassured him. "They work for the restaurant."

"Well…okay."

Harry went over to a waitress holding a silver tray. There was a bowl of red marinara sauce in the middle, and layers of garlic bread were surrounding it.

"Hello, young man," said the waitress kindly, smiling down at him. "Would you like to try some garlic bread?"

"Yes, ma'am," said Harry. "Can I have one for my pregnant aunt, too?"

"Why, how sweet! Of course you can," the waitress told him, handing him two slices of garlic bread. Harry thanked her and walked away, stuffing his garlic bread into his mouth on the way, expecting it to taste like any other bread…

But it _didn't_. It had so much…so much _flavor!_ It was so buttery and delicious. The outside was a little crusty, but not too much, and the inside was soft, so soft, probably because of the butter, which seemed to be baked in, because it sure wasn't slathered on like he did with toast. What a strange concept!

"You've got to try this garlic bread stuff, Barbara!" Harry said enthusiastically, running over to her. "It's got great flavor!"

"I have tried it," Barbara said, smiling. "This is, like, my go-to place to eat when I'm on break at work. I've even met the owner."

"Oh? What's he like?" Sirius asked casually.

"Well, you should hear his accent, for one thing," Barbara said. "All the waitstaff are locals here, so he's the only one who sounds like an American. He's proud of his culture, you can tell, but he seems to know his way around London, too—I guess because he's been living here since January. He's nice, though, and polite."

"You don't see him around a lot in the dining area," Robert added. "He's more of a facts-and-numbers sort of bloke—and he's got to keep his eye on the cooks and the waitstaff and everything. Like many entrepreneurs, he has a successful life, but a brutal one as well."

"Oy! Padfoot! Wait up!"

Harry's head swiveled around, and so did Sirius's. It was Remus, hurrying towards them.

"Good evening, Moony," said Sirius mock-formally.

"You weren't going to go in there without me, were you?" Remus asked, but from the way he was smiling, Harry could tell he knew that they would never do such a thing. That was why they were still outside in the balmy May air.

Robert looked a bit sheepish.

"I'm sorry for giving you crap about getting an appletini," he told Remus. "Won't happen again. This dinner is kind of going to be a do-over."

"You don't have to worry about me getting drunk _this_ time," Barbara said serenely, giving her baby bump a pat.

"So…hello, I'm Mrs. Gwendolyn Raffelovich," said Gwen.

"And I'm Officer Robert Raffelovich," Robert added. "Pleased to meet you."

"Pleased to meet you, too," said Remus, shaking both their hands. "I'm Remus Lupin."

"Let's go inside, though," Barbara told everyone. "These mosquitoes are going to eat me alive."

The party of six (or seven, if you counted Phoebe) walked towards the street towards the pizza place. They were able to get in, because they had a reservation.

"Could I have a name, please?" said the host.

"Robert," said Officer Raffelovich.

"Besides, it looks like you've already got a name of your own," Barbara said jokingly, pointing to the host's nametag, which read "David".

"I'll seat you immediately," said David, without cracking a smile.

Harry liked the way Reggie's Pizza Empire looked. The seats in the waiting area were a bright green color, and they looked like the kind you'd find at a baseball stadium. There was a big glass case full of merchandise from Chicagoan sports teams—the Bears, the Bulls, the Blackhawks, the Cubs and White Sox—and there was even a framed basketball jersey on the wall. Sirius was looking around in interest; Harry knew his godfather was the only one who didn't know about Muggle sports. Remus, he figured, knew more, since Remus's mother had been a Muggle, like Barbara.

They passed by the bar on their way to their seats. There was a bartender, maybe in his fifties, who was mixing drinks. Several people were idly chatting in the high barstools; it looked like they were having a good time. There were three TV screens, one right above the bar, the other two on either side of it. The middle one played a movie, the one on the left played a Bears game, and the one on the right played a Blackhawks game. There was a sign nearby that read "Reggie's Pizza Empire—Now _That's_ Pizza!"

The group of six/seven could see the screens clearly from the booth in which they sat. They were near the party room. It wasn't long before a tall waiter approached their table.

"Hello, my name is Rosario, and I will be your waiter this evening," he said politely. "Could I get you all something to drink?"

"Do you have chocolate milk?" Barbara asked. "Or actually, chocolate milkshakes? Ever since I've fallen pregnant, I'm always dying for something sweet."

"We absolutely have that," said Rosario. "And what about you, sir?"

"I'll have a chocolate milkshake as well, please," Sirius said.

None of the adults decided to drink that night. Robert got coffee, Gwen got lemonade, and Remus and Harry both got apple juice.

"I guess this means I'm feeding my daughter lots of sweets, too," Barbara said jokingly.

"Well, then, she'll end up as a sweet little girl, won't she?" crooned Sirius, giving Barbara a kiss on the cheek.

"Not with you for a father, she won't," said Remus teasingly. "I predict she'll have quite a temper."

"Only if it's completely and utterly justified," said Sirius in a dignified way.

"Anyway, do you want to order the pizza?" Gwen suggested. "I really like the 'Reggie' pizza—so good, they named it after the man."

"No, don't," said Barbara. "That one has vegetables on it, ew. Let's get the chocolate-chip cookie pizza."

"That's on the dessert menu, darling," said Sirius, pointing it out.

"Your point being…?" Barbara raised her eyebrows.

"We can order it for dessert, sweetheart," said Robert. "Or you can get one all your own, how does that sound? I'm paying."

"Oh, nonsense," said Sirius. "You should let me pay, Robert."

"I get a discount here," Robert explained. "It's the Public Servants discount, or, as they call it here, the Everyday Heroes discount. Cops, firefighters, paramedics, and members of the military all get a 20% discount."

"As it should be," said Gwen, patting her husband's hand.

"Well, all right, then," Sirius said. "What about that Polish sausage one you mentioned?"

"Sounds good to me," Robert agreed. "One large pizza serves four, so we'd have to get different pizzas for the other two in the group…"

"Well, how about Barbara and Phoebe get the chocolate-chip cookie pizza, Mrs. Raffelovich gets the 'Reggie', and the rest of us order the Polish sausage one?" Harry suggested, hoping to make everyone happy.

"Sure!" Barbara looked happy at the thought of not having to wait until dessert to sink her teeth into something sweet, and she also had smiled when Harry included Phoebe as a guest.

Not long after, Rosario came back.

"Are we all ready to order?" he asked politely.

"Yes, we'll have one large Polish sausage pizza, one single-serving 'Reggie', and one chocolate chip cookie pizza, please," said Robert.

"You're not going to be very full, dear, if all you eat is sugar," Gwen told her daughter. "Besides, my granddaughter needs nourishment…"

"Oh my _God_ , Mum! Fine," Barbara grouched. "Can I have a single-serving Polish sausage?"

"You can," said Rosario, writing it down, but he looked a bit put off as he left for the kitchen again.

"This place really does smell great, doesn't it?" said Sirius.

"Yeah," Barbara said happily. "I do love eating here."

They didn't have as much trouble talking as they did last time. They mostly talked about Phoebe, and how Barbara had gotten another sonogram and in it, Phoebe could be seen sucking her thumb. Gwen got a little choked up at that, and so did Sirius, even though he had been there with her. They also talked about Harry's school (although, thanks to the Statute of Secrecy, they couldn't give away many details), and Robert shared police stories. Sirius seemed delighted when he heard about the K-9 officers.

"They even have little badges on their collars?" said Sirius. "That's so cute."

"Oh, that reminds me," said Barbara. "Daddy, do the badge thing again, okay?"

"Very well," said Robert, chuckling. Then he said in a mock-serious police voice, "This is the police! You are under arrest! Come out with your hands up!"

"Huh! You can't arrest me," said Barbara defiantly.

"This can," said Robert, holding out his badge, and they both laughed.

Time seemed to pass much faster than it had last summer. Before long, the four pizzas were arriving at the table.

"Want the first bite, Harry?" Sirius asked kindly, gesturing to their huge Polish-sausage pizza.

"Sure," said Harry, reaching for a slice, but Barbara stopped him.

"You eat deep-dish with a knife and fork," she explained.

This seemed strange to Harry, but then, the pizza didn't look anything like he'd ever seen before, either. It came in a big silver pan, and the crust was higher than the pizza itself. Sirius took a slice out of the pan for Harry, who took note of how you could see the melted cheese sticking to the slice as he did so. When the pizza was on Harry's plate, he cut a sliver off of it, like he did when cutting meat, and put it in his mouth.

FLAVOR! Harry loved it. It tasted meaty, but cheesy at the same time.

"Looks like Harry's a fan," said Sirius, who was grinning, but Harry could hardly see anyone or hear anything through the swirling torrent of cheesy deliciousness that was now surrounding him. He had eaten pizza before, but nothing like this. _Nothing_ like this! The pizza he had here was always so bland and flavorless in comparison! No wonder Reggie's Pizza Empire was an empire, and the most popular restaurant in London!

They ordered another chocolate-chip cookie pizza for dessert, this time one for them all to share. Harry loved that, too. He loved everything about this place. When it came time to go, he was full and happy. He hugged everyone goodbye, then he and Sirius flew back to Hogwarts.

It was only when he was in bed that night, in Gryffindor Tower, that he realized how different things were now. He had enjoyed himself tonight, and not just because the food was so good. And then he remembered that before he had gone to sleep that night, he had been wondering about what it would be like if Sirius and Barbara had a baby together. One difference was that now he knew how that worked, but also, another was that this time she actually _was_ having a baby, and he was just as excited as ever to meet her.


	69. Harry's Decision

Harry's scar continuously hurt throughout the exams—not a huge pain like the one he had felt when he saw the thing (Voldemort?) that had been drinking unicorn's blood in the forest, but more like a persistent, stabbing pain, similar to a headache.

Plenty of students were complaining of headaches, most likely because they were under a lot of stress, low on sleep due to studying and worrying, and taking exams in an overheated castle with no air conditioning of which to speak. Just as Harry had longed for Muggle heating last winter, so he now longed for Muggle air conditioning. Harry only hoped they could have heating and air conditioning in the new Hogsmeade house—or would there be too much magic in the air for technology, just like it was at Hogwarts?

The exams were finally over with Care of Magical Creatures on Thursday. It was an easy exam, because all they had to do was pick a magical creature, write one scroll of parchment about it, then play with the Cruppies for the practical exam. They would pass the practical exam if they were able to keep the Cruppies happy and have fun with them. (Harry got the feeling Sirius didn't want anyone to fail the first class he had ever taught.) There was no exam for Sirius's Defense Against the Dark Arts class. Sirius said it was because the students had enough exams, but he confided in Harry later that he didn't really feel like testing people _again_ , and at any rate, it was an optional class, so giving them exams should be optional, too.

"Listen, Harry," said Sirius as he made to leave the pumpkin patch. "I'm going to be leaving for London in about an hour. We wanted to spend Friday together—since I have Friday off—and Barbara has another ultrasound on Saturday. I'll be back in time for dinner on Saturday night."

"All right," said Harry. "Just as long as you bring me photos."

"You know it," said Sirius. "It'll be great, since she's starting her third trimester in less than a month. Ah, how the time flies…"

"It does, doesn't it?" Harry smiled then, thinking of how worried Sirius and Barbara had been, and how happy they were now. How happy _he_ was now. Maybe that was why it took babies nine months to form, Harry thought. So the baby's family had time to get ready. With his baby sister in mind, Harry returned to where Ron and Hermione were waiting.

"Care of Magical Creatures was a pretty good exam," said Ron. "But History of Magic was a drag."

"It was actually easier than I thought it would be," Hermione said. "I needn't have learned about the 1637 Werewolf Code of Conduct or the uprising of Elfric the Eager."

"Did you really just say 'needn't'?" said Ron, and Hermione rolled her eyes, but Harry had another question.

"The Werewolf Code of Conduct hasn't been updated since 1637?" he said incredulously.

"Well…no, it hasn't," said Hermione, and Harry knew that she too was thinking about Harry's Uncle Moony.

"They need to get with the program, then," said Harry. "It's really outdated. My dad had to support Remus, because he didn't have any money of his own. He pays the mortgage for Crescent Cottage with his Gringotts bank account, but that account is my dad's money. It's a twenty-year mortgage, so it's not paid off yet."

"Is that how you're going to buy your Hogsmeade house?" asked Ron.

"No," said Harry. "Sirius is going to use his inheritance to pay up front, since he still has a lot left. It will be a nice house, but not really that pricey. For someone with rich parents, you wouldn't _believe_ what a cheapskate Sirius is."

"Some people just like the simple life," said Hermione. She smiled, then, and pointed to their favorite tree by the lake.

Ron and Hermione seemed peaceful and happy that the exams were over. Harry felt Hermione's warm hand slip into his, and she leaned her head on his shoulder, the heat supposedly putting her (and Ron) to sleep. As soon as Harry felt Hermione's hand, he felt a firework inside him, and a familiar tingling sensation in his toes. But his scar burned at the same time, and that kind of ruined it.

"I wish I knew what this _means!"_ he yelled. "My scar keeps hurting—it's happened before, but never as often as this."

"Go to Madame Pomfrey," said Hermione without opening her eyes, squeezing his hand.

"I'm not ill. I think it's a warning…it means danger's coming…"

"Harry, relax, Hermione's right," Ron said. "The Stone's safe as long as Dumbledore's around—"

"Are you sure about that?" said Harry.

"Whatever, Snape doesn't know how to get past Fluffy, the dog," Ron continued. "He nearly had his leg ripped off once, he's not going to try it again in a hurry. And Neville will play Quidditch for England before Hagrid lets Dumbledore down."

"Sure, Hagrid would never betray Dumbledore on purpose," Harry agreed. "But remember when he mentioned the Sorcerer's Stone in front of Sirius? Only the Heads of Houses, Dumbledore and Hagrid were supposed to know. I could easily see him mentioning Fluffy by accident, too…and maybe to the wrong person."

"And…what are you proposing we do, exactly?" asked Hermione, opening her eyes again.

"We've got to ask him, of course," said Harry, standing up so suddenly blood rushed to his head, but he ignored it. Ron and Hermione followed him to Hagrid's hut. The gamekeeper was sitting outside, shelling peas.

"Hello, Hagrid," said Harry, panting slightly. "We have a question for you."

"Yeah?"

"Did you mention Fluffy to anyone that you remember?"

Hagrid stopped shelling his peas in shock. "How do you know about Fluffy?"

"We heard you mentioning him to Snape," said Harry. "But it doesn't matter. We know he's guarding the S—he's guarding something, and I hope you didn't mention him to anyone."

"It mighta come up," Hagrid said apathetically. "But it was jus' a stranger in a bar, I was playin' cards with him for—for gold."

Hagrid looked a bit shifty when he said "gold", but Harry wasn't really concerned with that.

"What did he look like?" asked Harry.

"Dunno, he wouldn't take his cloak off." When Hagrid saw them looking suspicious, he continued, "It's not that unusual, yeh get a lot o' funny folk in the Hog's Head—that's one of the pubs down in the village. I never saw his face, he kept his hood up."

"And you didn't mention Fluffy at all?"

"Please, tell us you didn't," Hermione added. Now she was looking quite concerned, too.

"Well, he thought it was interestin'," Hagrid told them honestly. "How many three-headed dogs d'yeh meet, even around Hogwarts? So I told him, Fluffy's a piece o' cake if yeh know how to calm him down, jus' play him a bit of music an' he'll go straight off ter sleep—"

"Hagrid!" said Hermione in shock.

"I shouldn'ta told yeh that!" said Hagrid. "Forget I said it! Hey—where're yeh goin'?"

Harry, Ron and Hermione ran into the castle.

"We've got to tell Sirius," said Hermione frantically. "He'll know what to do!"

"We can't, though," Harry said in horror. "He's undoubtedly left for London by now! Barbara has an ultrasound on Saturday—"

"Then why did he leave on Thursday?" Ron demanded.

Harry thought he knew why, but he just shook his head in frustration.

"I'm going to send a letter to Sirius telling him what's up," he said. "Like you said, Hermione, he'll know what to do."

"That was before I knew he was in London, though," said Hermione. "It takes him an hour to fly there, right? So it probably takes Hedwig longer, because even though she's flying too, she's smaller. I'm guessing an hour and a half. Then it will take Sirius another hour to fly back. It's already five in the afternoon, so Hedwig won't get to London until six-thirty, and then Sirius won't get here until seven-thirty or maybe eight, and by then it will be too late. We should go to Dumbledore."

"Like he'll believe us," said Harry. "I'm going up to the Owlery to send Sirius a letter and—"

"What are you three doing inside?"

Harry, Ron and Hermione spun around. It was Professor McGonagall. She was carrying a load of books in her arms.

"We want to see Professor Dumbledore," Hermione told her.

"See Professor Dumbledore?" Professor McGonagall looked suspicious. "Why?"

"It's sort of secret," was all Harry could think of to say.

"Professor Dumbledore left ten minutes ago," she informed them. "He received an urgent owl from the Ministry of Magic and flew off for London at once."

Harry knew Ron and Hermione were thinking the same thing he was—Dumbledore was in London, too? This had to be some sort of world record for bad timing!

"He's _gone? Now?"_ said Harry.

"Professor Dumbledore is a very great wizard, Potter," said Professor McGonagall. "He has many demands on his time—"

"But this is important," Harry insisted.

"Something you have to say is more important than the Ministry of Magic, Potter?"

There was only one thing for Harry to say now. He told Professor McGonagall he thought someone was going to steal the Sorcerer's Stone (he didn't say it was Snape, of course), and understandably, she seemed shocked, so shocked she dropped the books she was carrying. But she pulled herself together again quickly.

"Professor Dumbledore will be back tomorrow," she told them. "I don't know how you found out about the Stone, but rest assured, no one can possibly steal it, it's too well-protected."

"But Professor—"

"I know what I'm talking about," said Professor McGonagall. "I suggest you all go back outside and enjoy the sunshine."

With that, she walked away.

"It's tonight," Harry told his two best friends. "Snape's going through the trapdoor tonight. He's found out everything he needs, and now he's got Dumbledore out of the way. He sent that note, I bet the Ministry of Magic will get a real shock when Dumbledore turns up."

"But what can we—"

Hermione's sentence was cut off by a gasp. Harry and Ron turned around to see what she was looking at.

"Good afternoon," said Snape, grinning wickedly, almost leering at them. "You shouldn't be inside on a day like this."

"We freaking go to school here," said Harry.

Snape scowled.

"You want to be more careful," he said. "Hanging around like this, people will think you're up to something. And Gryffindor really can't afford to lose any more points, can it?"

Harry, Ron and Hermione had no more to say to him. They started to go outside again.

"Be warned, Potter," Snape called as he made his way to the staffroom. "Any more nighttime wanderings and I will personally make sure you are expelled. Good day to you."

"He doesn't want me wandering around at night," said Harry, "because that's when he's going to get the Stone. He doesn't want me interfering with his little plan to resurrect Voldemort."

"What are we going to do?" asked Hermione. "Sirius is gone, Dumbledore is gone, Snape and McGonagall are hanging around…Voldemort will be back by tomorrow!"

"We've got to keep an eye on Snape, for one thing," said Harry. "Hermione, you wait outside the staffroom door. Pretend to be looking for a teacher—like you have a question about the exam or something. Ron and I will guard the Forbidden Corridor."

Ron and Hermione agreed to this plan, but as soon as Harry and Ron reached the Forbidden Corridor, they ran into Professor McGonagall again.

"I suppose you think you're harder to get past than a pack of enchantments!" she scolded. "Enough of this nonsense! If I hear you've come anywhere near here again, I'll take another fifty points from Gryffindor! Yes, Weasley, from my own House!"

They had no choice but to return to the common room. Hermione came in moments later, telling them that her part of the plan had failed, too. She had told Snape she was looking for Professor Flitwick to discuss the exams, and Snape went to get him. Hermione had run away.

"Well, that's it then, isn't it?" said Harry. "I'm going to go out of here tonight and I'm going to try and get to the Stone first."

It took some convincing, but finally Ron and Hermione agreed that there was nothing else to do. Harry was surprised when they said they would go with him.

"How do you think you'd get to the Stone without us?" Hermione asked. "I'd better go and look through my books, there might be something useful…"

"But if we get caught," Harry reminded her, "you two will be expelled, too."

"Not if I can help it," Hermione replied, her expression dead-set. "Flitwick told me in secret that I got a hundred and twelve percent on his exam. They're not throwing me out after that."

…

After dinner, Harry, Ron and Hermione went up to Harry's dorm. They hadn't eaten very much, as they weren't very hungry. They just sat on Harry's bed, waiting to rescue the Sorcerer's Stone. Harry and Ron were practicing spells they'd learned in school, and Hermione was poring through her notes. When the clock struck nine, Hermione left, pretending she was going to bed. Harry and Ron faked being exhausted from exams, and "fell asleep" without even undressing. Neville hadn't come up yet, but Seamus and Dean had. They blew out the candles.

Once Harry and Ron were sure everyone in the dorm was sleeping except them, they got up to go downstairs and meet Hermione. Harry grabbed the Invisibility Cloak out of his trunk. He also retrieved a record player Sirius had passed on to him, which had also been his father's, and a Rolling Stones record, "Fool to Cry" (his father's favorite Muggle band and song). These would keep Fluffy at bay.

"Hang on," Ron whispered. "You've forgotten something."

Harry's eyes had adjusted to the dark by now, so he saw what Ron was holding up. It was his father's dueling gloves and helmet.

"Yes, I'll be needing these." Harry fastened the gloves onto his hands and set the helmet on his head, a determined look on his face. Ron looked admiring. "Let's go."


	70. Quirrell Takes Charge

They had nearly done it. After so many trials and tribulations, they were almost there. Hermione had gotten past Neville's attempt to fight them in the common room by using the Full Body-Bind Curse on him. Harry had used his father's record player to placate Fluffy. Hermione had saved Harry and Ron from the Devil's Snare. The three of them had caught a winged key to open another door. Ron had talked them through an excellent chess game, although he had ended up sacrificing himself. Luckily, Snape had apparently taken care of the next guard (a troll) for them. And finally…Hermione pushed open the door to the next challenge.

Harry knew whose challenge it was immediately—Professor Snape's. It contained seven bottles of all different sizes, filled with different potions. As soon as they stepped into the room, purple flames shot up behind them, black flames in front of them.

"We're trapped!" said Harry, fidgeting with the dueling gloves on his hands. Not even they would protect him from magical fire.

"Maybe not." Hermione pointed to something sitting by the bottles. It was a scroll of paper, which contained a poem. Harry read it over Hermione's shoulder.

 _Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind_

 _Two of us will help you, whichever you would find,_

 _One among us seven will let you move ahead,_

 _Another will transport the drinker back instead._

 _Two among our number hold only nettle wine,_

 _Three of us are killers, waiting hidden in line._

 _Choose, unless you wish to stay here forevermore,_

 _To help you in your choice, we give you these clues four:_

 _First, however slyly the poison tries to hide_

 _You will always find some on nettle wine's left side;_

 _Second, different are those who stand at either end,_

 _But if you would move onward, neither is your friend;_

 _Third, as you see clearly, all are different size,_

 _Neither dwarf nor giant holds death in their insides;_

 _Fourth, the second left and the second on the right_

 _Are twins once you taste them, though different at first sight_.

"Brilliant," sighed Hermione. "This isn't magic—it's logic—a puzzle. A lot of the greatest wizards haven't got an ounce of logic, they'd be stuck in here forever."

"But so will we, won't we?" said Harry, who thought it would have just been smarter to put the bottles out without any clues, which almost guaranteed that nobody would reach the Sorcerer's Stone.

"Of course not," Hermione told him. "Everything we need is here on this paper."

After Hermione had figured out the riddle, and they knew what bottles they needed to drink (Harry had to confront Snape alone, since the bottle that would take him through the black flames was so small) it was almost time for Harry to go.

"Listen, Hermione, after I go through the black flames, go back to the chess room and wake Ron, okay?" Harry said. "Use the brooms from the flying-key room to get you out of here. Then send a letter to Dumbledore. We've got to get his help."

"All right," said Hermione, and even though she tried not to show it, Harry could see concern flickering in her chocolate-brown eyes. She made to pick up the bottle that would take her through the purple flames, but…

"Hermione, wait."

"Yes?" Hermione turned around, eyebrows raised.

"I just want you to know…if this is truly the end…" Harry swallowed, not knowing, at the end of the night, whether Hermione would hold him in her arms or weep over his dead body. "I don't think Voldemort's going to be the death of me."

"You—you don't?" Hermione frowned.

"No." Harry took her hands in his and felt a now familiar jumping sensation in his stomach. "You will."

"What do you mean?" Hermione still looked confused, turning her head on an angle slightly.

"I mean…I love you, Hermione," said Harry. "Don't ever forget that."

This time he didn't know who started it, but it didn't matter. It just seemed so natural, the way they both went in for a kiss at the same time…and wonderful heat, like hot chocolate, filling Harry up, melting his heart, as he felt Hermione's lips on his own. It was like kissing heaven. When their lips parted, he forgot the Snape dilemma for a moment and felt simply exuberant.

"I love you too, Harry," she whispered, tears sparkling in her eyes. She took a gulp from the bottle she had chosen, shuddered at the taste, then waved goodbye. Harry waved back, then picked up the smallest bottle, downing it in one sip.

Harry walked forward through the black flames, but he couldn't feel them. And when he finally arrived in the next room, he couldn't believe who he saw. It was Quirrell.

"You!"

"Me." Quirrell smiled calmly. "I wondered whether I'd be meeting you here, Potter."

"B-But where's Snape?" said Harry, frantically adjusting his helmet. It still felt way too heavy on his head, and made his hair all sweaty. "I-I thought he was trying to steal the Stone…"

"No, _I_ was trying to steal the Stone," Quirrell said triumphantly. He seemed amused by Harry's utter shock. "Severus was able to cover for me just by being himself—and a Death Eater past does follow one around, doesn't it?"

"So he _was_ —" Harry could worry about Dumbledore's questionable staff appointments later. For now, he had to process the fact that this feeble man had been helping Voldemort all along. Finally he burst out, "Why'd you do it, Professor Quirrell?!"

"So nobody would ever laugh at me again!" Quirrell glared at Harry, as if he had just asked a very rude question.

"You did all this crap so people wouldn't _laugh_ at you?" Harry said incredulously. "Resurrecting the horrible Dark wizard who—"

"Do not speak about my Master that way!" Quirrell looked infuriated.

"Calm down," said Harry. "I just—wait, what's that?"

Harry had just noticed a familiar, majestic golden mirror standing behind Quirrell—the Mirror of Erised.

"Silence!" Quirrell snapped his fingers, but it was too late. Harry had instinctively thrown out his fists and the ropes that should have bound him retreated. They almost wrapped themselves around Quirrell, but he jumped out of the way just in time. Quirrell gave an angry growl and started towards Harry, but then a high, chilling voice cut in…one that seemed to be coming from Quirrell, except he wasn't moving his lips.

" _Focus, Quirinus_ … _focus on the Mirror_ …"

"Yes…this mirror will reveal to me the location of the Sorcerer's Stone," said Quirrell, more to himself than to Harry, peering into the mirror thoughtfully. "Yes…I see myself in it, presenting the Stone to the Dark Lord…but where is the Stone?"

Harry had the feeling Quirrell didn't know how the Mirror of Erised worked, and hopefully it would stay that way. But what if Quirrell figured it out? He could see himself presenting the Stone to Voldemort, because that was what he wanted the most in the world… _What do I want most in the world right now?_

That was easy. Harry most wanted to rescue the Stone before Quirrell could get ahold of it. So that was what he would see if he looked into the mirror…and he would see its hiding place! Harry gingerly stepped towards the mirror, but Quirrell was blocking him.

"What does this mirror do?" Quirrell asked. "How does it work? Help me, Master!"

" _Use the boy_ … _use the boy_ …"

"Potter!" Quirrell snarled, glaring at Harry's helmet and dueling gloves. "Come here. Look in the mirror and tell me what you see."

Did Quirrell honestly think Harry was going to tell him what he _actually_ saw? All he had to do was lie; how would Quirrell possibly know?

Harry stepped in front of the mirror, staring at his reflection, looking for the Stone. Then, suddenly, his reflection smiled, then pulled the crimson Sorcerer's Stone out of his pocket. And as the Harry in the mirror returned the Stone, Harry felt it drop into his pocket for real. He didn't understand how that had worked, exactly…but Quirrell didn't have it.

"Well?" Quirrell demanded. "What do you see?"

"I'm snogging my girlfriend," was the first thing Harry could think of.

"Unbelievable," Quirrell muttered, shoving Harry aside. "Stupid kid. Get the fuck out of the way."

Harry was just about to run when the horrible voice spoke yet again.

" _He lies_ … _He lies_ …"

"Potter, come back here!" Quirrell was looking fed-up now. "Tell me the truth! What did you just see?"

" _Let me speak to him…face-to-face_ …"

"Master, you are not strong enough!"

" _I have strength enough_ … _for this_ …"

Harry stood there, staring, as Quirrell unwrapped his turban, then turned slowly around. On the back of Quirrell's head was a horrible, chalk-white face. And it was so…snakelike. The eyes were slanted and blood-red; the nose consisted of two slits. Harry recoiled.

"Harry Potter…" whispered the head, and Harry knew perfectly well who it was.

"V-Voldemort?" he said in shock, taking another step backwards.

"See what I have become?" said Voldemort. "Mere shadow and vapor…I have form only when I can share another's body…but there have always been those willing to let me into their hearts and minds…Unicorn blood has strengthened me, these past weeks…you saw faithful Quirrell drinking it for me in the forest…and once I have the Elixir of Life, I will be able to create a body of my own…Now…why don't you give me that Stone in your pocket?"

Harry remembered something Sirius had told him about Voldemort being a Legilimens—someone who could read minds. If he could tell Harry had been lying about what he saw in the Mirror, surely he'd be able to tell where the Stone was, too. Now all he needed to do was get Harry to hand it over…but it wouldn't be that easy.

"OVER MY DEAD BODY!" Harry hollered.

"You want to join your parents? Well, I think that can be arranged," said Voldemort, smiling nastily; then, to Quirrell: "Kill him!"

Harry pulled his wand quickly out of its holster (a gift from Sirius at their last Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson).

" _Expelliarmus!"_ said Quirrell, catching Harry's wand in midair. Harry cried out as Quirrell used his own wand to remove Harry's dueling gloves and helmet; they landed about a foot away. Harry would never reach them in time.

Not only was he wandless, but his dueling gloves and helmet were gone, too. What now?

"Now, Master, I shall make you proud," said Quirrell, his voice edged with excitement now. _"AVADA KEDAVRA!"_

Harry dodged the jet of green light, feeling it graze the back of his hair, the part that stuck up in back.

"KILL HIM!" Voldemort repeated.

" _AVADA KEDAVRA! AVADA KEDAVRA!"_ Quirrell screamed over and over again.

Harry was dodging the bright flashes of light like they were Bludgers.

" _AVADA KEDAVRA!"_ Quirrell's curse nearly hit Harry square in the chest; he ducked for cover and fell onto his stomach as the Killing Curse flew past over his head. Then he heard a clattering sound…to his horror, the Sorcerer's Stone had fallen right out of his pocket.

"Ah," said Quirrell, putting his wand hand down and staring at it hungrily. "The Stone."


	71. Dogfather's Intuition

Harry looked at the blood-red Sorcerer's Stone, laying there on the floor. He couldn't just get up, grab it and run away—that would be turning his back to Quirrell, and there was no time anyway. Quirrell was already making his way towards the Stone, Voldemort egging him on. There was only one thing for Harry to do.

He reached his hand out and grabbed the Stone like a speeding Snitch.

"You want it?" he said, as Quirrell bared his teeth in anger. "Then go get it!"

Harry threw the Stone across the floor of the chamber, where it landed near his dueling gloves and helmet. Quirrell gave an evil, victorious laugh and ran towards the Stone, completely forgetting the boy who had thrown it…and that was a big mistake. Harry dived.

Down Quirrell fell like a mighty oak, having been grabbed by Harry right around the ankles, getting his feet pulled out right from underneath him. He screamed in agony as his bald head hit the floor. Voldemort screeched too.

"GET OFF ME, BOY!" Quirrell hollered, but Harry had climbed on him, grabbing for Quirrell's hand, which was still closed tight over the wands. And, just like Holly said, the Pinch could come in handy. With another scream of pain, Quirrell let go of the wands. Harry grabbed them quick as he could and stood up. He made sure Quirrell was watching as he broke Quirrell's wand in two, then took control of his own again.

" _Accio! Accio! Accio!"_

Once, twice, thrice Harry used the Summoning Charm. Quirrell was getting up, but it was too late. The Stone flew right back into Harry's pocket. Harry hurriedly placed his wand back in its holster, just soon enough to catch the dueling gloves on his hands. He caught the helmet in his hands and set it on his head.

Quirrell was standing up by now, glaring. His eyes went straight to Harry's dueling gloves, but he didn't look scared.

"And just what do you think you're going to do with those?" he jeered, pinning Harry to the wall. One hand was on Harry's chest, the other around his left wrist. Quirrell was about a head and a half taller than Harry. With a twisted grin, he pulled Harry's wand out of its holster.

"Say goodbye, Potter," he hissed, pointing the wand at Harry's neck.

Only one thought ran through Harry's mind.

 _Phoebe needs her big brother_.

Before Quirrell could utter a single incantation, Harry pulled his left hand all the way down, forcing Quirrell to let go—and, with his right hand, reached up and sucker-punched him, knuckles first, right in his leering face.

Quirrell howled, both hands flying up to the place where Harry had socked him, dropping Harry's wand in the process.

" _OO WOKE MAH HAW!"_ he bellowed, and from the way Quirrell was talking, plus the fact that his face was now bleeding, Harry was sure it was true—the dueling gloves had, indeed, managed to break Quirrell's jaw.

"And that's not all I can do!" Harry said, picking his wand up off of the floor and hitting Quirrell with a well-placed Knee-Reversing Hex. Quirrell fell forwards onto his face, out like a light.

Harry was now staring down at Voldemort's face. Voldemort was still smirking.

"Good job, Harry," he said mockingly. "You may be able to win a duel with your weak, powerless teacher. But you could never win a duel with me. Not even your father could."

"What?" said Harry.

"Your father tried to hold me off at the door," Voldemort said. "As if he could, when he didn't even have a wand…He and your mother died begging for mercy…They were nothing but pathetic fools, just like anyone else who so unwisely challenges the Dark Lord…"

"TAKE THAT BACK, YOU MURDERING DOUCHENOZZLE!"

Voldemort and Harry both looked towards the threshold where the wall of magical fire was still burning. Harry's felt his jaw drop; there was his godfather, looking beyond furious.

"Sirius!" Harry cried in shock. "How did you know I was—I thought you were in London!"

"Call it a godfather's intuition," Sirius said hurriedly, rushing over to where Harry was standing next to Quirrell, who was still unconscious on the floor. "Is he…dead?"

"I don't think so," said Harry. "Just knocked out. I broke his jaw."

Harry held up his dueling gloves. The one on the right was covered in Quirrell's blood.

"You…you…" Sirius was holding his hand on his heart. "What…why? W-Where's Snape? And…and what's Voldemort doing on Quirrell's head?"

"It was Quirrell all along," Harry explained. "He framed Snape. Like Pettigrew framed you, sort of."

"Well, they're both going to Azkaban, then," Sirius said shortly. He flicked his wand once, conjuring a pair of steel handcuffs and snapping them onto Quirrell's wrists. But before he could grab Quirrell's body, the face vanished and a thick fog, sort of like cigarette smoke, drifted out of Quirrell's head. When it was gone, there was just a normal back to Quirrell's head, and Voldemort was gone.

"Voldemort got away, Sirius," said Harry in dismay. "He escaped."

"It's not like Azkaban could have held him anyway, I suppose," said Sirius, pulling a little bottle out of his robes. "Here…drink this potion. It will get us through the firewall."

Harry drank some of the potion, which was steaming-hot. Sirius drank a sip too, and they walked through the fire together, Sirius leading Harry by the hand and Quirrell's body with the _Mobilicorpus_ spell. Harry told Sirius what bottle to drink to get past the purple flames, just like Hermione had done what seemed like so long ago. They made their way past the stinky troll, past the chess room (Ron was already gone; Hermione must have gotten him to come around), and through the room with the flying keys. Sirius used his wand to conjure a ladder, which they used to climb back into the room with Fluffy, where James's old record player was now playing "I Don't Want to Miss a Thing." In short, it was a lot easier getting away from the Stone than it was getting to it. All the while, Harry's hand was in his pocket, clasped tightly around the Stone.

When they had slammed the door behind them and entered the rest of Hogwarts, they were surprised to see Dumbledore, Ron and Hermione waiting for them.

"Harry!" Hermione shrieked, her eyes full of tears. She ran into his arms, embracing him. "Oh, Harry, are you all right?"

"Never better," Harry told her, laughing. "And look!"

As soon as she let go, he pulled the Sorcerer's Stone out of his pocket. Hermione looked at it in wonder, and Harry let her hold it for a minute, but then she turned to Dumbledore.

"Professor, do you want your—"

Hermione couldn't finish her question, because Dumbledore was getting lectured by Sirius, whose loud voice could be heard all throughout the corridor. He had one hand on his hip, the other pointing in Dumbledore's face. The lecturing didn't seem like it would stop anytime soon.

"And what were you thinking, putting up all these enchantments a few first years could get through—albeit a few exceptional first years," he said, looking at Harry and his friends, but then back at Dumbledore. "I honestly don't understand why you didn't just lock it up where nobody could find it, they need the password to get into your office, don't they? What was the point of all those guards besides to waste everyone's time—and risk my godson's safety? And why did you hire somebody who had FUCKING VOLDEMORT stuck in his head? Couldn't you smell that foul stench coming from his turban! I sure could! That's dropping the ball pretty badly, isn't it, even for you! This is a _school_ , Dumbledore, not an insane asylum—"

"Blimey," said Ron, staring. "He sounds like my mother."

"Let's leave them to it," said Harry, grinning. He kissed Hermione's cheek, and the three best friends linked arms. Then they finally took Professor McGonagall's advice—they went out to enjoy the sunshine.

 **TO BE CONTINUED!**


	72. Another Year Gone

Approximately one hour later, Harry and Hermione were holding hands under their favorite tree. Ron was there, too, fast asleep. Harry and Hermione were getting sleepy too, and Harry wondered if they would fall asleep holding hands again. But before they could do that, Sirius approached them. Harry swallowed.

"H-Hi, Sirius," he said, his face going warm.

"Hey, you," Sirius said back, crossing his arms. "What was it I said about you risking your neck?"

"To not to," Harry said sheepishly. "Look, I'm really sorry, I'll take _any_ punishment…just please don't be angry."

"Are you kidding me?" Sirius grinned and flopped down next to Ron, who awoke with a sort of grunt. "That was awesome! Yeah, I was worried, not to mention furious. But now that you're okay, and the Stone is okay, and Quirrell is on his way to Azkaban, and you've saved the day…well, let's just say I couldn't be more proud."

…

With Harry's help, Gryffindor was able to wipe the floor with Ravenclaw in their last Quidditch match of the year a couple days later. Harry still wasn't the most popular kid in school but this, along with the whole Quirrell incident, had improved his standing a little. Gossip, as it so often did, had made Harry even more famous than he had been before. Now everybody knew what had happened in the Underground Chambers with Quirrell, somehow.

Sirius was indeed proud as all hell yet angry with Harry for risking his neck again, although not nearly as angry as he was with Dumbledore—he was convinced Dumbledore had done a lousy job of guarding the Sorcerer's Stone, and he wasn't pleased with the headmaster for putting Harry's life in danger again. But he had decided not to punish Harry, on the grounds that if Harry _hadn't_ risked his neck, they all probably would be dead now.

"I know I've said it before, but I really am proud of you, Harry," Sirius said lazily. It was the last day of school, and he was lying against the tree by the lake, arms behind his head, eyes closed. Harry and Hermione were holding hands again; Ron was munching on some Honeydukes chocolate Sirius had gotten for him in Hogsmeade.

"Thanks." Harry smiled. "But, you know, I couldn't have done it without all your amazing lessons."

"Well, I never expected you to have to _use_ them, especially not so soon," Sirius said, without opening his eyes.

"How did you know, though?" Harry asked. "How did you know I was in danger?"

"You know, I'm not sure," Sirius said thoughtfully, his eyes finally opening. "I mean, I was with Barbara, and we were watching that new _Beauty and the Beast_ movie, and suddenly I just got the feeling that something was…wrong. Very wrong. I wasn't about to ignore a feeling like that, so I Apparated back to Hogsmeade, then made my way back into the castle using the secret shortcut by that one-eyed witch. I was lucky it was on the third floor. I was running towards where you said that dog was hiding, and on my way I met Ron, Hermione and Dumbledore."

"We had just been about to send that letter to Dumbledore when we met him in the Owlery," said Ron. "Dumbledore knew what you were up to already, and the three of us ran to the Forbidden Corridor. Dumbledore wanted to go get you, but Sirius said Dumbledore was not to go anywhere _near_ you, and volunteered himself."

"Dumbledore gave Sirius a fresh key to the chess room, a secret password to make the chessmen let him through without playing the game, and the potion to get through the black flames," Hermione continued. "So the journey to the Stone must have been easier for him."

"Yeah," said Sirius. "By the time I got through the black flames, you had all but defeated Quirrell, and Voldemort had just totally insulted your parents. I couldn't stand for _that_."

"So you called Voldemort a murdering douchenozzle," said Harry with a grin.

"Well, he was being one." Sirius shrugged and closed his eyes again, leaning against the tree, just about ready to fall asleep.

"So did Dumbledore ever explain how the Sorcerer's Stone even got in my pocket?" Harry asked.

"Nah," said Sirius. "He was just kind of 'fuck-you' about it all. Some crap about how you could only find the Stone if you didn't want to use it—well, that's all very poetic, but it still doesn't really explain how the Stone actually got out of the mirror and into your pocket."

All was quiet for a moment, and Harry was sure Sirius had gone to sleep. But then—

"Black?"

"Snape?"

Sirius suddenly looked up. Snape was looming over them, looking aggravated. Harry didn't know what to say to him, so he didn't say anything. Snape looked overheated in all that black.

"Do you happen to know this woman?" Snape said flatly, arms crossed. "She's been standing outside my office door, asking for you for about an hour now. It's driving me mad!"

"Barbara!" Sirius jumped to his feet and embraced her. She hugged him back, beaming.

"Sirius," Barbara said affectionately. "I thought Phoebe and I would spend the end-of-year feast with you lot…if that's okay, of course."

"Well, I don't see why not," said Sirius happily, kissing her on the cheek. "By the way, you see this bloke here, Snape? He's the one who gave you that potion to make your morning sickness go away."

Snape looked taken aback, like someone had just electrocuted him.

"You did?!" Barbara squealed. "Wow, that was so nice of you!"

Harry laughed a little as she embraced him in a tight hug. Snape coughed, having inhaled an unnatural amount of her strawberry-scented perfume.

"Don't mention it," he said irritably, managing to break free of her grasp. "Really. Don't."

Snape turned on his heel and stalked away. Barbara stared.

"Wow, he's in a bad mood today, isn't he?" she said, looking at Sirius.

"Nah," said Sirius. "That was pretty normal, for him."

…

Barbara wanted Hufflepuff to win the House Cup, because that was the House the Sorting Hat had placed her in when she'd tried it on. However, she said that if Hufflepuff couldn't win (they were in third place) it would be great if Gryffindor won instead.

"Gryffindor is in _last_ place," Harry told her, just before she walked to the High Table to sit next to Sirius (since Quirrell was in Azkaban, there was an empty seat there now). Sirius was already up there, wearing his finest red-and-gold robes, despite the entire Great Hall being decorated with green and silver. Harry sat down in between Ron and Hermione, who held his hand. All heads swiveled in his direction and people stood up to get an eyeful of him, but he ignored them. It seemed like a long time until Dumbledore stood up.

"Another year gone!" he said, spreading his arms out to the school. "And I must trouble you with an old man's wheezing waffle before we sink our teeth into our delicious feast."

Harry looked at Barbara. She looked like she could devour every bit of food in the entire castle, or at least everything that tasted sweet.

"What a year it has been!" Dumbledore continued. "Hopefully your heads are all a little fuller than they were…you have the whole summer ahead to get them nice and empty before next year starts…"

Sirius grinned. Harry was sure he was thinking about the new Hogsmeade house.

"Now, as I understand it, the House Cup here needs awarding, and the points stand thus: In fourth place, Gryffindor, with three hundred and twelve points."

There was a smattering of light applause; even the Gryffindors were subdued. Sirius clapped enthusiastically, and so did Barbara. The teachers were supposed to clap to be polite, but Snape didn't.

"Hufflepuff, with three hundred and fifty-two…"

Barbara cheered and clapped for her would-have-been House. So did the other Hufflepuffs. Sirius clapped for Hufflepuff, too, because of Barbara.

"Ravenclaw has four hundred and twenty-six…"

All the people at the Ravenclaw table clapped, although they seemed disappointed, having come _so_ close. Harry knew they were thinking of the last Quidditch match, which they had also lost.

"And Slytherin, four hundred and seventy-two."

For the first time, the clapping and cheering was truly enthusiastic. Snape was clapping, looking smug. Malfoy banged his goblet on the table. Sirius looked ill; Harry wondered if he regretted taking those points away now.

"Yes, yes, well done, Slytherin," Dumbledore told them. "However, recent events must be taken into account."

Sirius's head turned quick as anything to stare at Dumbledore, his eyes widening. Barbara's mouth opened slightly. Dumbledore continued his speech.

"Ahem. I have a few last minute points to dish out. Let me see. Yes…first—to Mr. Ronald Weasley…for the best-played game of chess Hogwarts has seen in many years, I award Gryffindor House fifty points."

Everyone in Gryffindor cheered. Barbara was clapping, her face glowing. Dumbledore waited patiently for the noise to end, a smile on his face.

"Second," he said, "to Miss Hermione Granger…for the use of cool logic in the face of fire, I award Gryffindor House fifty points."

Hermione burst into happy tears, to Harry's surprise, and he hugged her, but they let go of each other when Harry heard his name come out of Dumbledore's mouth.

"Third—to Mr. Harry Potter…for pure nerve and outstanding courage, I award Gryffindor House sixty points."

Now Sirius could be seen banging his goblet on the table, cheering like crazy and pumping his fist in the air. Barbara had burst into tears too, just like Hermione. Snape was looking sullen.

"We're tied with Slytherin!" Hermione whispered to Harry and Ron. Everyone went silent when Dumbledore raised his hand.

"There are all kinds of courage." Dumbledore smiled. "It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends. I therefore award ten points to Mr. Neville Longbottom."

Everyone piled onto Neville and hugged him. Harry was so happy Dumbledore had given Neville those points; this "why-does-everything-happen-to-me" person had finally had something good happen to him. Neville had won the House Cup for Gryffindor, and nobody could take that away.

Harry glanced at the Slytherin table. It was clear they were booing, but nobody could hear it over the cheering from the other three House tables, because even Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were glad Slytherin hadn't won _again_. Sirius and Barbara were hugging each other in joy; she buried her face in his chest, and he gave her hair an affectionate stroke.

"Oh, thank you guys, thank you!" Harry looked up and saw someone else running towards him. It was Holly Greengrass. She gave tight hugs to Harry, Neville, Ron and Hermione (Ron turned purple and collapsed onto the floor).

"Hi, Holly," said Harry. "We won! Isn't it great?"

"More than you know!" Holly couldn't stop beaming at Harry. "This was my last year at Hogwarts, remember? I was sure I wouldn't see a year when Slytherin didn't win the House Cup—and thanks to you, I finally did!"

Everyone turned to the High Table when they saw Sirius standing up.

"Mind if I do the honors, Professor Dumbledore?" he said, winking, and Harry suddenly knew his godfather's displeasure with Dumbledore was a thing of the past.

"Go ahead, Professor Black," Dumbledore said serenely.

Sirius pulled his wand out of his pocket and swept it across the Great Hall. The green Slytherin banners turned Gryffindor-red, the exact same color as Sirius's silk robes. The silver became gold. Sirius wiped the Slytherin serpent away with another wave of his wand, and it was replaced with a Gryffindor lion. Sirius flicked his wand once more and the Gryffindor lion let out a deafening roar, just like everyone in the Great Hall did—well, except the Slytherins, of course.

Snape looked like he was the one with the constipation problem as he shook Professor McGonagall's hand. She looked exasperated with Sirius and Dumbledore, but still happy. Sirius and Barbara came over to collect Harry, Ron and Hermione after dinner (Barbara had plowed through the desserts even faster than Ron).

"Things are going to be okay between you and Dumbledore now, aren't they?" Harry asked, grinning at Sirius.

"Looks like it," Sirius said airily. "I was just telling him…maybe he's not as much of a douchenozzle as I thought he was."

…

Sirius and Barbara joined Harry, Ron and Hermione for the train ride home. Barbara commented that she was _still_ shocked that a place like Hogwarts could exist.

"Well, it seems normal to people like me, you know, we grew up hearing about it," Sirius told her casually. "In a few years, it'll seem normal to you, too. And of course to our lovely daughter, Phoebe."

Barbara grinned.

"We're almost to the third trimester," she said, "and I couldn't be happier."

When they finally reached Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, trunk-free because Sirius had stuffed them all in his magical pockets, they went back to King's Cross in twos and threes. Sirius and Barbara went together, and then Harry, Ron and Hermione. When they got there, they found Remus waiting there, along with Mrs. Weasley and Ron's younger sister, Ginny.

"Busy year?" said Mrs. Weasley, smiling.

"Very," Harry told her. "Thanks for the fudge and the sweater, Mrs. Weasley."

"Oh, it was nothing, dear," she said in reply. Ron waved, and went to join his mother and sister.

"I'll see you soon, Harry," Hermione said, kissing Harry on the cheek and making him go red. "This was a wonderful year."

"And don't forget that makeover I promised you," Barbara added, grinning. "If you're still interested, that is."

"Oh, I am!" Hermione's face lit up, and she hugged Barbara too, then mumbled, "Bye, Phoebe, can't wait until you're finally born!"

Barbara laughed, and Hermione went to join her parents. Harry was about to walk away when Holly came running up to him, tears in her eyes.

"I can't believe I'll never ride that train again," she said, choked up. "I'm going to see if I can get a job in Hogsmeade, that way I can still be nearby. It was nice meeting you, Harry."

"Nice meeting you too," Harry told her. "And who knows, we might meet again. I'm going to move to Hogsmeade, too. We're going to get a new house there!"

"Keep me posted!" Holly called, then she ran off to join her cousins, Daphne and Astoria, to take them home. Harry saw Draco Malfoy was watching Astoria out of the corner of his eye as Lucius and Narcissa came to take him away.

"You know what this calls for, don't you?" said Barbara as she, Remus, Sirius and Harry walked out to the parking lot. Barbara put up her hand to hail a cab.

"What?" said Harry.

"Why, a chocolate-chip pizza at Reggie's Pizza Empire, of course," Barbara replied. "I'll make the reservations tonight, and we can go tomorrow. Kind of like an end-of-year celebration thing."

"Just an excuse for you to eat more chocolate-chip pizza, more like," said Sirius jokingly, Barbara grinned and punched him in the arm, and they all laughed heartily.

It was going to be a very interesting summer.

 **TO BE CONTINUED!**


	73. Reggie

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: POTENTIAL SPOILERS ARE HERE IN THIS CHAPTER! PLEASE THINK BEFORE YOU POST SPOILERS IN THE REVIEWS! THANK YOU!**

Harry was exhausted when he got home from Hogwarts that evening. He did miss the castle, of course, but it was still sort of nice to be home. And it wasn't as if he couldn't see Ron and Hermione until the next year started! Hermione lived right here in London, and Sirius was in tight with the Weasley family. So he would have plenty of company. Then there would be the move, and after he started his second year, Phoebe would be born. Barbara slept over that night, too (she didn't need to get an overnight bag, because whatever she needed Sirius could just magic out of thin air).

The next morning, Harry was awakened by a giant black dog jumping on him. Harry gave the dog a hug and patted it on the head, then watched him transform into Sirius again. Sirius was still wearing his pajamas and a bathrobe, but the shower was running; Harry assumed Barbara must be in there.

"Let me take the shower first, she said." Sirius put his hands on his hips, pretending to look angry. "It will only take ten minutes, she said."

"What, did she want all the hot water or something?" Harry asked.

"This is a flat," said Sirius. "There's pretty much unlimited hot water. No, she just wanted time to do her makeup and stuff."

"It's a good thing we're getting a house," said Harry. "I don't think this one-shower thing is going to work out for very long, is it?"

"No…" said Sirius, but that was when the water shut off in the bathroom.

"WHERE ARE ALL THE TOWELS?!" Barbara yelled from the bathroom.

"THERE'S ONE IN THERE, DARLING!" Sirius yelled back.

"ONLY ONE! I NEED TWO!"

"WHY?!"

"FOR MY _HAIR_ , YOU DUMBASS!"

"SORRY!" Sirius called. "THERE AREN'T ANY MORE LEFT!"

"Yes, there are," said Harry, giving him a look. "And even if there aren't, can't you just magic one up?"

"Hopefully she'll use the one towel in there for her hair and not her body."

"Sirius!"

"Fine," said Sirius, and he took off.

Harry rolled his eyes at them as he waited for the shower. Hopefully Sirius wouldn't be in there for very long. Until then, he settled his head back down on his pillow and dreamed of the new house in Hogsmeade. Things would be perfect.

…

That evening, Sirius, Barbara and Harry prepared to go to Reggie's Pizza Empire. Barbara wore a bright pink sleeveless maternity shirt with black tights and cute white flats (she had been wearing tights a lot more often, and heels only when she went to work). Harry wore his white button-down shirt, but with jeans instead of slacks. Sirius wore a pleather jacket, jeans and his imitation-dragonhide boots. (Sirius had confided in Harry and Barbara that he had never worn anything actually made from animals.)

When they were seated, Sirius and Harry decided that they wanted to split the "Reggie", only they didn't want the vegetables on it, just the meat. Barbara got another chocolate-chip cookie pizza, although she said she'd have some of the "Reggie", too, so Phoebe wouldn't only be eating sweets.

It wasn't long before the pizzas came.

"You have quite an honor," they heard their waitress, Reba, saying.

"What is it?" Sirius said casually, looking down at the table as he sipped his drink.

The next voice Harry heard was a male's, in an American accent. He didn't recognize the region or dialect off the bat, since the only American dialect he was familiar with was a Southern drawl (from TV). But then, remembering who the only American in the place was, he knew who it must be…

"Well, it's customary for the 'Reggie' pizza to be delivered by Reggie himself, of course."

That was when Sirius looked up, and so did Harry, who felt his breath catch in his throat. He was sure he looked just as shocked as Reggie did, but he couldn't say a word. Luckily, Reggie could.

" _Sirius?!"_ he cried, and at the same time—

" _Regulus?!"_ Sirius blurted out in disbelief. They were just staring, both of them, as if the other had grown an extra head suddenly.

"Oh my God—Sirius!" Regulus said again. "And, can it be…Harry Potter?"

Harry noticed how Regulus said his name sort of like "Hairy Podder". He put a lot of emphasis on the hard _a_ in "Harry", and even more on the double _r_.

"Yeah, that's me," said Harry, remembering how Regulus had been a Death Eater, and feeling somewhat nervous. But Sirius looked twice as nervous as Harry felt.

"You," said Sirius, face white as a shroud, standing up and pointing at Regulus, his finger shaking uncontrollably. " _You're_ supposed to be dead."

"Now, Sirius," said Regulus, making a "calm-down" motion with his arms, "there's a simple explanation—"

But Sirius was leaning on the chair now, his hand over his heart. Everyone in the restaurant was staring.

"If I'm starting to see people back from the dead—that was, what did he call it, psychosis…" Sirius's hand was still over his heart, and his face was looking more panicked by the second. "I'm going to be locked up…again…a danger to myself and others…"

"Sirius!" Regulus said, looking a little panicked himself. "Calm down! You're not imagining me, I'm real!"

"Harry, you'd better call Dr. Stefansen," said Sirius, his voice trembling. "Or—hell—I might even need a real doctor!"

"What?" Harry jumped up, Barbara right behind him.

"Oh my God, Sirius, no—you aren't—are you having a heart attack?!" Regulus cried.

"If I was, would—would my chest be hurting?" Sirius said, looking alarmed. "And my arms?"

"Yes, they would!" Regulus shouted. "Hurry up, somebody call 911!"

"What's 911?!" said Barbara, who had been running to the phone.

"Sorry—I mean 999," Regulus said. "Dial a 7 first, that's how the phone works—Sirius!"

"No!" Harry screamed, for that was when Sirius blacked out. Looking around the restaurant, knowing he couldn't wait for the paramedics, he cried, "Is there a doctor in the house?!"

"Yes!" said a woman at a nearby table, standing up. "My date here has been a rich doctor for over thirty years!"

"Um…honey?" said the man she was with. "I…I'm actually not a doctor. I just said that to impress you."

"WHAT?!" the woman screeched, slapping him with her purse. "You asshole!"

Harry couldn't focus on them right now. He leaned down next to Sirius, tears starting in his eyes. The room was spinning; he could feel his entire world falling apart at the seams. That's how it would be without Sirius in it…

Barbara was over by the bar, using the phone there to call an ambulance. Regulus was giving Sirius CPR. Harry dropped to his knees by Sirius.

"Listen, Harry, you go outside and wait for the ambulance, all right?" said Regulus. "I'll keep trying to resuscitate him."

Harry could only nod. As soon as Barbara got off the phone with the 999 operator, she ran to Sirius and held his head in her hands, silent tears streaming down her cheeks, as Regulus tried his best to pump life back into his brother. Harry ran outside into the warm summer night air. He couldn't watch it anymore.

It wasn't long before the flashing lights and sirens announced the ambulance's arrival. The cops were there, too, and firetrucks. Harry had always liked firetrucks as a little boy. But when he saw the paramedics rush into the building with all their equipment and a stretcher, he just felt hot tears leaking out of his eyes, staining his glasses. One of the cops walked up to him.

"There, there," he said, taking Harry into his arms. "It's going to be all right, son."

"No it isn't…" Harry's voice broke. "That was my godfather."

"They'll save him, son, you'll see," said the police officer.

"You're—you're just saying that." Harry was sobbing by now. He just couldn't help it.

"Harry." It was Regulus Black. "I'm going to ride in the ambulance with Sirius, okay? Barbara is going to drive you to the hospital."

Even though he barely took in what Regulus was saying, Harry nodded, not letting go of the police officer. Regulus set his hand on Harry's shoulder for a split second, then left. The paramedics came out of the restaurant soon after, carrying a stretcher, which Harry knew had Sirius on it, but he couldn't look. There was no way he would want to see Sirius like that, and Sirius wouldn't want Harry to see him like that.

Then the cop left Harry, and Harry felt a warm, soft hand slip into his.

"Come on, honey," Barbara said softly, gently pulling Harry along to the red Ford Fiesta, waiting close by in the parking lot. The flashing lights and sirens died away, although everything seemed strangely dulled and muted.

Harry cried all the way to the emergency room.


	74. Flesh and Blood

By the time Harry and Barbara reached the waiting room of the hospital, Harry in tears, Barbara clinging to his hand with a death grip, her purse swinging wildly on the other hand, Regulus was already there in the waiting room. He looked a mess.

"Did you hear anything?" Barbara asked anxiously, sitting down next to him. "Is he going to be okay?"

"It's—it's too soon to tell." Regulus's voice was very soft, and Harry knew why; it was easier to keep your voice from breaking if you spoke quietly.

"I can't believe this happened," Barbara said, and Harry thought he finally heard her voice quaver.

"I can." Regulus sighed, and Barbara looked up. "Heart failure is what killed both our parents. It runs in the family. And I suppose it didn't help that he chain-smoked for all those years."

Harry couldn't say a word. This whole year he knew his family would be complete—Sirius, Remus, Phoebe, Barbara, and now Regulus, who they had just discovered was alive after all. But Sirius's heart hadn't been able to take it. Literally.

Barbara finally started to cry silently. Harry knew she was thinking about how she almost lost her father as a little girl, before she was even born…Would the same thing happen to poor Phoebe? Would she be like Harry, only knowing her father through stories, heart aching for a father's love?

Regulus put a comforting arm around Barbara. He seemed to be trying so hard not to cry. He looked a lot like Sirius, only a little smaller and slighter, and his eyes were pale blue instead of gray, almost like diamonds. Harry thought he and Barbara were trying to be strong for him, but he didn't need it. He could see through anything adults faked.

They had only been there for a few minutes when Remus came rushing in.

"I came as soon as I heard," he said, looking distraught. "Any news?"

"Nothing yet," said Regulus, as Barbara leaned her face into his shoulder.

Remus sat down next to Harry and offered him a handkerchief. Harry refused it, because he knew he couldn't stop crying. And he felt powerless. His image of his perfect family had been shattered. Without Sirius, his whole _world_ was shattered, and he hated how powerless he felt. Magic couldn't save Sirius from a heart attack. Now he would be living with Andromeda, listed as his elected guardian right after Sirius on his father's will, and although he was sure she was nice, he didn't even know her from a hole in the ground.

Finally, their commiserating was interrupted by a nurse standing by the doorway to the waiting room.

"We have news on Mr. Sirius Black," she said softly.

Regulus jumped out of his seat like it had been electrocuted.

"Good news? Bad news?" he pressed her. "What?"

The nurse broke into a tired smile, and spread her arms out to them. "He'll be just fine. It will take more than a heart attack to kill him."

Harry's heart flew upwards like fifteen brooms at a Quidditch match, and he ran to the nurse, giving her a tight hug of relief. Regulus was right behind him. Remus helped Barbara up, and everyone scuttled over to where the nurse was standing.

"It's best if you don't all overwhelm him," she pointed out, then looked at Regulus. "Family first."

"Sirius can't call me his family," Regulus said quietly, turning his head away. "And…and not just because of this."

The nurse looked confused.

"Regulus, listen," Harry interrupted. "You—you don't know. Sirius has told me tons of stuff about you."

"Like what?" said Regulus. "That I turned into a Death Eater and I'm just like our parents?"

"No, not that." Harry shook his head. "He told me about how you tried to be rebellious by shaving for the first time without telling your parents and you sliced up your hands instead by mistake, and he had to help you clean it up. He told me about the time when you came to his room because of a bad dream and he read you _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_ , and—"

"And the next morning, Mom found us curled up together, fast asleep, and took a picture," Regulus finished, looking touched. "He…he _remembers_ allthat?"

"Like it was yesterday," said Harry. "You know, he said he really regrets not connecting with you as much as he should have, and—I wouldn't say this if it weren't true—he blames himself for letting you go astray."

"What?" Regulus's head snapped up, and he looked at Harry. "The only person who's responsible for leading me astray is me."

Regulus's face suddenly assumed a determined expression, and he grabbed Harry's hand.

"Time to go talk some sense into that man."

They entered Sirius's hospital room together, the two of them. Harry felt a lump in his throat. Sirius looked so weak and pale, dressed in a hospital gown, lying back against the bedsheets, apparently fast asleep, his black hair loose, spread all out over the hospital pillow.

Regulus sat down on the side of the bed and held Sirius's pale, thin hand in his own.

Harry couldn't help observing them, though he could hardly see (tears were clouding his eyes again). Regulus's pale-blue eyes were shimmering with tears, making them resemble diamonds even more. He moved his thumb back and forth, massaging Sirius's hand, as if willing him to wake up.

And finally, Sirius opened his eyes.

"R-Regulus…?" he croaked. "Am I…am I dead?"

"No, brother," said Regulus, the tears becoming more pronounced in his diamond eyes. "And neither am I."

"But…but…but _how?"_ Sirius was blinking in confusion and, it seemed, exhaustion; he made to get up, but Regulus gently pushed him back down, still not letting go of his hand.

"I faked my death ad escaped to America," he explained, looking away. "I still don't know if it was the right thing to do…but I was just trying to protect everyone. I'm sorry, Sirius."

Something flickered in Sirius's gray eyes. Regulus squeezed his brother's hand.

"Becoming a Death Eater was wrong…I know that now," Regulus continued. "I didn't mean to hurt anyone, I just…I just, well, I-I thought…I mean, I'm sure you're wondering how you can _ever_ forgive me, and I don't blame you—Sirius?"

Regulus had stopped speaking.

Sirius was smiling.

And before anyone could say anything more, Sirius sat up straight in bed and hugged Regulus, hugged him tight. Regulus looked shocked, didn't move a muscle. Sirius seemed to be both laughing and crying, hugging Regulus like he would never let go.

"The only thing I'm wondering," Sirius said, his voice breaking, "is what wonderful, amazing thing I must've done to get my little brother back. I love you, Regulus."

Regulus's blue eyes closed, and Harry saw that tear, finally released, trickle down his cheek.

"I love you too, Sirius."

When they had finally separated, Sirius looked over at Harry, and smiled again, holding out his arms.

"Harry," he said. "Harry…"

"Sirius!" Harry hugged Sirius as tight as he could. Tears were still leaking out of his eyes. When they pulled apart, Sirius seemed to notice this.

"Were you crying?" he asked bemusedly.

"Well, I was so scared," said Harry, then hugged Sirius again. "I love you, Sirius, so you're not allowed to die, ever. That's the rule."

Sirius laughed and hugged Harry back, then ruffled his hair. Harry was so glad he was alive to do it.

"Best of all," said Sirius, looking at Regulus, "this means Lucius Malfoy doesn't get to be Head of the House of Black anymore."

"What?" said Harry in indignation. "Since when is _he_ the Head of the Black Family?"

"Since Uncle Cygnus died, that's when," said Sirius, "and we always thought there was nobody else available."

"Uncle Cygnus is dead?" Regulus frowned.

"Yeah," Sirius replied. "Died last spring. It was of natural causes, though."

"Well, then I suppose that did give the title to Lucius, at least until I reclaim it," Regulus agreed. "Dad held the title when he was alive, since he was older. Then once Dad died, Uncle Cygnus got the title. It would have gone to me when he died last spring, but by faking my death, I conceded the title to the next available male. Since Rodolphus Lestrange is in prison and Andromeda's marriage to Edward Tonks was never validated, the title went to Lucius Malfoy through his marriage to Cousin Narcissa. The title skipped over Sirius because he was disowned."

"And if Lucius died, the title would go to…to _Draco?"_ said Harry.

"Not anymore," said Sirius, beaming. "Not since my little brother came back. You _are_ going to take back the title, aren't you, Reg?"

"Yes," Regulus replied. "That is, unless you want it."

"I can't have it, remember?" said Sirius. "I got disowned."

"Well, I'm Head of the family now," Regulus told him, now beaming. "And the first thing I'm going to do is re-own all the people in our family who were disowned. Since you're the older brother, the title is going to go back to you. And you have the choice to either keep it, or concede it to me."

Sirius looked absolutely thunderstruck.

"Are you…are you kidding?" he said.

"I did a lot of thinking while I was in America, Sirius," Regulus said matter-of-factly. "And I've got a _lot_ of explaining to do, I know it. But one thing I've realized, long ago, is that none of the people who got removed from our family tree deserved to be removed. And now I have the power to bring them back."

"Well, Reg, in that case I think you'll make a much better Head of the House of Black than I ever will," said Sirius gently. "As long as we keep the title away from the Malfoys, I'm good."

"What if both of you…well…" Harry couldn't think about Sirius or Regulus dying, but he _had_ to make sure Draco couldn't be Head of Sirius's family once Lucius died.

"Don't worry, Harry," said Sirius. "If something were to happen to both me and Regulus, the title would go to Ted Tonks, assuming Reg really does put Andromeda back on the family tree—and he's a good guy. If Ted caps it, the title won't go to Draco. It will go to whoever Phoebe marries, as long as I don't hex him first. She has a more direct link."

Harry smiled, thinking of how Malfoy would probably be so smug to be Head of two bloodlines, then get it taken away once Phoebe married.

"Or if Sirius were to have a son later on, the title would go to him," Regulus added.

"What about you?" said Sirius. "You could have a son, too."

"Oh, honestly, Sirius," said Regulus, his face turning a bit pink. "There is no _way_ I have time to even get married right now, much less have children."

"You say that now…" Sirius grinned wickedly. "But then the right girl comes along."

Regulus shook his head, but then Harry remembered something.

"Malfoy is going to be Head of the Greengrass family, too," he said. "He's in love with Astoria. I saw him watching her at King's Cross."

"Even if he does marry her, he's not going to be Head of the Greengrass family," said Sirius. "That title will go to whoever Holly marries, since she's the oldest…that is, if she ever gives up on her penis embargo."

"Her _what?"_ said Regulus.

"She's sworn off men," Sirius explained, "because all her dates have ever done is look at her breasts."

"Well, they are nice to look at, to be fair," Harry admitted. Regulus raised an eyebrow, and Sirius grinned, but that was when they heard a knock on the door.

"Mind if we come in?" Remus asked, poking his head into the room.

"Not at all, Moony," said Sirius warmly, so Remus walked in, followed by Barbara. "I'm sorry for giving you all such a scare. They say I have to stay in the hospital a few days, but that I'm going to make a full recovery."

Barbara rushed to Sirius's bedside, buried her face in his hospital gown, and started to cry uncontrollably.

"Oh, Siri, darling," she sobbed. "I-I was so worried! I love you…so much…imagine if you had—oh, I can't even think…"

"It's all right, love," Sirius whispered. "I'm going to be okay. Besides, little Pheebs needs her daddy, doesn't she?"

Barbara laughed in between her crying.

"Sirius," said Regulus, "Harry said you blame yourself for letting me go astray. Is that true?"

"I-I suppose I can't say it's not," Sirius admitted. "I wanted to protect you from all that was bad. But I couldn't, and I never forgave myself for it."

"Well, you can forgive yourself now, because I've joined you on the good path," Regulus told him, smiling. "And even if I hadn't, my choice to go to the Dark Side wasn't your fault. It was a decision I made."

"Speaking of, Regulus, I think there's something we're all wondering," said Remus. "What happened? How were you a dead Death Eater one day, a wildly successful Chicago-based businessman the next?"

"It's a long story, but I owe it to you all," said Regulus. "And I suppose the story starts with the day I joined the Death Eaters. I was…well, I was really excited when the Dark Lord gave me a mission. That is, until I found out what it entailed."

"What's that?" said Sirius.

"He was making Horcruxes, Sirius," Regulus said darkly.

Remus and Sirius gasped in horror; Barbara looked as confused as Harry felt.

"What's a Horcrux?" Harry asked.

Regulus and Sirius shared concerned glances, until Sirius finally said, "It's…it's where you put parts of your soul into different objects. All the objects have to be destroyed before you can die. I…I guess that explains why he didn't die when the Killing Curse rebounded on him that day."

"Mere shadow and vapor," Harry said quietly, remembering what Voldemort had said to him.

"Right," said Regulus. "Well, the thing is, he put a Horcrux in Slytherin's locket, and he wanted me to use our house-elf, Kreacher, to test the defenses. But what I didn't know was that the Dark Lord left Kreacher to die. Kreacher escaped using house-elf magic, then told me the truth."

"And that's what changed your mind?" said Sirius. "You always did love that elf."

"Well, that's part of what did it, I suppose," Regulus replied. "But when Kreacher told me what he'd seen, I figured out about the Horcruxes. And after that…after that I just _couldn't_. I knew at that moment, for once in my life, I had to do what _I_ wanted to do, not what other people wanted me to do. So I told Kreacher to take me to the Cave where the locket was hidden."

"And what happened then?" asked Harry.

"Well, I brought along a fake locket," said Regulus, "and once we got to the Cave, I drank the potion in the basin where the locket is hidden—you can only get to it if you drink the potion. It causes terrible, terrible thirst, because it's meant to lure you to the lake, where Inferi are hidden."

"Inferi!" Sirius exclaimed. "Honestly, Reg, if I had known—"

"What are Inferi?" Barbara asked.

"Reanimated dead bodies," Remus said matter-of-factly. Barbara looked beyond horrified. Harry wondered if she knew exactly what she was getting herself into.

"I ordered Kreacher to swap the lockets, destroy the Horcrux, and leave me to die," said Regulus.

"Leave you to die? Why?" said Sirius.

"If anyone knew about my switch, my whole family would be in trouble," Regulus explained. "So I told Kreacher, you will leave me for dead."

"But he obviously didn't," Sirius pointed out. "What happened?"

"It's just…well, I was on my way to the lake to quench my thirst, because I didn't know about the Inferi," Regulus was telling them. "I thought Kreacher had Disapparated. But then I saw him standing over by the rocks, watching me. After he had switched out the lockets, which he had, he was still there. When he saw me going to the lake, he told me about the Inferi, and he told me, 'Come home, Master Regulus, I will give you water. I'll heal you. Come with me.'"

Sirius was staring, open-mouthed, in complete shock.

"And I said, 'I _can't_ come with, I can't, it will only mean trouble for you, and for everyone else,'" Regulus continued. "Nobody can know. But he grabbed my weakened wrist, and he Apparated me back to London. But not back home."

"Where, then?" asked Sirius. "How did you not get discovered? And didn't he have to punish himself for disobeying you?"

"Yes, he did, until I told him to stop," said Regulus. "But he took me to a Non-Maj hospital—"

"To a what?" said Harry.

"Oh…sorry," Regulus said. "I keep forgetting…that's a Muggle hospital. He took me to a Muggle hospital in London, right outside the entrance to the emergency room. He yelled out real loud, 'WATER! WATER!' and told me he would tell everyone I was dead. Then he Disapparated just as the doctors and nurses came running outside."

"But that still doesn't explain how you ended up on the other side of the pond," Sirius told him.

"I'm getting to that," said Regulus. "Luckily, they had water with them, and once I had some, I was better off for it. I spent some time recovering there; I wasn't really ill, just weak. And as I was in there, I realized I was alive, but I couldn't go back now. Kreacher was telling people I was dead, and if anyone saw me alive, it would be the end of not just me, but our entire family. I knew my only option was to get out of Europe and live life as a No-Maj."

"And that's how you came to live in America," Harry said.

"Right. I knew I couldn't wait for them to discharge me from the hospital," Regulus continued. "So in the middle of the night when everyone was sleeping, I Disapparated to the nearest airport and landed eleven hours later to seek my fortune in the city of Chicago. I had a rough time at first. I had to start from nothing, as I didn't have the family fortune to help me out. Just because you _can_ make it in America doesn't mean it's easy. The only reason Reggie's Pizza Empire is so successful is because—"

"Because it tastes so darn good?" Sirius grinned.

Regulus smiled for the first time in telling his story.

"Well, yes, but I was going to say it was because I worked so darn hard for it, and I still do," he replied. "When you're an entrepreneur, you have to work yourself harder than any employer ever legally could. But it paid off for me. Within three years, there were two Reggie's Pizza Empire restaurants in Chicagoland; by 1990, there were six. And I was doing pretty well for myself."

"You always have been good at adapting and fitting in," Sirius commented. "I may have been born to rebel, but you were born to conform."

"Exactly, I used that to my advantage," said Regulus. "Back in Britain, I had to adapt to being a pureblood maniac. But now…now I had to adapt to the Chicagoan pizza-loving No-Maj life. So I immersed myself in the culture as much as I could and I actually came to love it quite a bit. I'm still a huge Bears fan. I like to think I mastered the accent pretty well, and by the time Reggie's Pizza Empire got off the ground, I was a successful, money-grubbing capitalist British-born American No-Maj worth about a million dollars."

"So what made you give up the good life and come back to Britain?" Barbara asked. She hadn't said much so far, but Harry knew she had been paying close attention to what she could understand.

"In June, I read a certain article in the New York Ghost—that's an American wizarding newspaper," said Regulus. "Sirius, I suppose you can guess what the front-page story was on June 20, 1991?"

"The day I got released!" Sirius gasped. "They put that in the American newspaper?"

"Of course they did, brother," said Regulus. "It was in Wizarding newspapers all over the world!"

"But in the Daily Prophet, it wasn't headline news," said Sirius. "It was just a random article."

"That's because they did a coverup here," Regulus explained. "The Daily Prophet is in tight with the Ministry of Magic. They didn't want their mistake being broadcast to everyone. But the New York Ghost could care less about the Ministry of Magic's mistakes. They were all too glad to have such a juicy story. And when I read it, I almost choked on my breakfast.

"Of course, I knew I couldn't just up and leave," he continued. "But I did know I couldn't just stay here in America with you out of prison over there, either. It took a couple of months to get my affairs in order and find someone to manage the business over here so I could set up in London, and I was able to get here by Christmas. I meant to surprise you on Christmas Day, but the person at the desk told me you were in Scotland. I took that to mean Hogwarts.

"The first-ever Reggie's Pizza Empire in London opened in January," Regulus said. "I figured I could capitalize on the fact that the food here is way bland compared to the food in America, and by God, it worked. Reggie's Pizza Empire is, like, three times more popular here than it ever was in Chicagoland. That's why I'm opening another one very soon.

"By the way…" Regulus smiled. "How would you all like to be my special guests when the new restaurant opens?"

"We'd love to," said Sirius. "Oh, Reg, is—is all of that _true?_ The part about the locket, and Kreacher, and defying Voldemort?"

"All of it," said Regulus seriously, nodding.

"Oh my God…" Sirius leaned back on the hospital bed. "Oh, Regulus, please forgive me."

"For…for what?" said Regulus, looking confused.

"I always thought you just got killed for chickening out on Voldemort's orders," Sirius choked. "I'm—I'm so sorry."

"It's okay." Regulus smiled. "That's what I _wanted_ you to think."

"But still…" Harry was surprised to see that this time, Sirius's eyes were filling with tears. "All this time…all this time I just thought you were Mum and Dad's puppet, and yet…and yet…"

"I was their puppet, Sirius, but no more," Regulus told them. "If there's anything I learned from this whole experience, it's that I need to stop being what people tell me I need to be, and choose my _own_ path."

Sirius was smiling so, so much, but his eyes were still filled with tears.

"Standing up for what I believed in and defying what I was being told to do when I knew it was wrong…well, that felt really good," Regulus continued. "I-I wanted to be brave, like you."

"You were, Reg, you were," said Sirius, giving Regulus another hug. "I'm…I'm so proud of you. More than you could ever know."

Harry, Remus and Barbara all watched; it seemed like Sirius couldn't hold it back any longer.

"Sirius…" said Regulus. "Sirius, don't…"

But it was too late. Harry had seen Sirius get angry, and he had seen him get weepy, and a little disturbed by things from his past. But he had never seen him really, truly, openly cry…until now. Regulus looked like he had no idea what to do as his brother, Sirius, hugged him tightly and let out what seemed like twelve years' worth of lost tears.

And all for Regulus, his flesh and blood. Someone Sirius thought was gone forever, and yet they had gotten a second chance.


	75. Back in Black

Within a few days, Sirius was already itching to get out of his hospital room, but Barbara, Harry, Regulus and Remus constantly visited him, so he wasn't lonely. Ron and Hermione visited a couple of times, too. Still, his date of release couldn't come soon enough. Everyone was waiting until the doctors finally thought it was okay for Sirius to come home.

On that particular day, Barbara had gotten a fender bender on her Ford Fiesta, so it was in the shop. That hadn't stopped her and Harry from visiting Sirius, of course. Taking the bus wasn't quite the same (they had been seated right across from a passenger Harry was quite sure was high as a kite), but they got to the hospital on the day Sirius finally got released, and that was what was important!

Harry waited out in Sirius's room while Barbara helped Sirius change. Harry was sure they'd purposely drag a situation like _that_ out, but not this time. They were out of the bathroom within ten minutes, and the nurse escorted Sirius down to the main lobby, Barbara and Harry right on his wheels…and there, in the lobby with a bouquet of flowers and a box of deep-dish pizza to go, was Regulus.

"Just in time for the grand opening of the second London location of my restaurant," he said happily. "It's in only three days!"

"Thanks for the flowers, Reg," said Sirius. "And thank you for looking after Harry while I was in the hospital, Barbara."

"You're welcome." Barbara smiled, then sighed. "Now let me just check the bus schedules…"

"Bus schedules?" said Regulus. "Well, I don't think that will be necessary."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked.

"Take a look outside," Regulus said in reply. He gestured dramatically to the hospital parking lot, where there was a slinky black stretch limousine, shining in the summer sun. The driver got out and opened the door for them.

"Oh my God!" Barbara cried. "You rented a limo?!"

"Rented? No, that's my personal chauffeur," Regulus said, giving her a wink. Barbara helped Sirius up out of the wheelchair and led him into the limo, where he sat right between her and Sirius. Regulus sat across from them, smiling from ear to ear, as the driver finally took Sirius home again.

…

The whole time Sirius had been in the hospital, Barbara had been living in Sirius's flat with Harry and looking after him. She used Sirius's bathroom, since he wasn't there, and he used his own, like always. That was nice, because he had the one with the tub in it. On the day Sirius came home, it was almost seven at night. Barbara helped Sirius into pajamas, lovingly tucked him in, then cooked dinner, which she brought him in bed. Harry came in, too, and sat on the edge of the bed.

"Now, don't spoil me, sweetheart," Sirius began, snuggling into the pillows. "You're the pregnant one, I should be taking care of y—"

Sirius was cut off when Barbara stuck a spoonful of pudding into his mouth.

"I am going to spoil you _rotten_ , darling," she cooed, brushing his bangs out of his eyes, and he closed them, enjoying the sensation of her touch. "Mind you finish your dinner, now."

"That's what I missed the most in the hospital, besides my family," Sirius said tiredly, smiling up at the two of them. "These homecooked meals."

"Well, you'll never have to eat hospital food again!" said Barbara, kissing Sirius on the forehead. She picked up the spoon from his giant bowl of chocolate pudding and said, "Open up, here comes the train!"

Sirius opened his mouth and she fed him the pudding. Harry rolled his eyes at them, but there was another bowl of pudding for him on the tray, so he ate that one.

"All right, now, Siri, I've brought some water, but you need to take your heart medicine, and the antidepressants too," said Barbara. She took a pill container out of her pocket and shook the capsules out into her hand.

"Ah…yes, thanks," said Sirius.

"More medicine?" Harry asked them in surprise.

"Yeah." Sirius nodded. "The doctors at the hospital gave me some heart medicine. It's like Reg said, heart disease runs in our family…and I guess Lily was right about me not smoking."

…

Three days later, Sirius was much better. (Barbara had spoiled him, just like she promised; she confided in Harry that possibly her pregnancy made her more nurturing.) Sirius was still a little weak, but he definitely had no intention of missing the big opening of Reggie's Pizza Empire. It was a semi-formal occasion, so Sirius and Harry wore expensive suits with sports jackets. Barbara said she thought Harry looked cute. That wasn't really the look he thought he was going for, but at least she hadn't said he looked stupid. It was an important thing, because Hermione was coming along, too. They were giving Hermione a ride, but they were going to meet Remus and of course Regulus there.

The grand opening was at seven, and Hermione showed up at the flat around five-thirty. She looked a little nervous. She was wearing jeans and a T-shirt, but in her arms she held a violet gown, which looked like it had never been worn before.

"I-I know it's a semi-formal occasion, so I brought a dress," she said to nobody in particular. "I hope it's all right…"

"It'll be fine!" said Barbara, who was wearing a fluffy pink polyester bathrobe. She still had cold cream on her face, and her hair was wrapped up in a towel from her shower. "I think now is a good time for that makeover, isn't it, Hermione?"

Hermione looked shocked, but then she grinned.

"Sure!"

"Come into the bathroom, I'll help you get ready," said Barbara. The only way Hermione could have run faster is if there had been a library in the bathroom.

"How long is this going to take?" said Harry.

"Shh," said Sirius serenely, pressing his index finger to his lips. "Just let them work their woman-magic, Harry."

It was taking a long time. Harry started to fidget.

"What are they _doing_ in there?" he asked Sirius, feeling a little irritated.

"Harry, let me ask you something," said Sirius. "You like treacle tart, don't you?"

"Yes," said Harry.

"Well, in order to enjoy one, do you need to watch how it's made?"

"No…"

"Well, there's your answer." Sirius smiled and closed his eyes, his arms behind his head. Harry noticed he was wearing cufflinks of solid gold, instead of the green ones he had inherited from his father.

"Where are your Black family cufflinks?" Harry asked.

"I've got them in my pocket," Sirius replied. "I'm going to give them to Reg tonight. Remember? They were supposed to go to him."

"You know, I just remembered," said Harry. "I forgot my Old Spice cologne."

Sirius had told Harry that he didn't need to wear his cologne every day, only on special occasions. (Sirius wore his cologne every day, but that was different.) This was definitely a special occasion, though, so Harry knew he definitely had to wear his cologne. He ran into the bathroom and located it in the cabinet.

Unfortunately, he found that the spray nozzle was broken. When he tried to spray it, like he had the last time he wore it (when they last went to Reggie's Pizza Empire), a tiny bit of liquid just dribbled out pathetically. So Harry unscrewed the lid, poured the liquid into his hands, and rubbed it all over his neck and wrists, hoping it would be just as good. But when he walked back into the drawing room, Sirius coughed.

"Harry, what _is_ that?!" he demanded. "What did you _do_ , dump the whole bottle on yourself?"

"Well…not all of it," Harry admitted. "But the spray nozzle was broken, so I kind of had to pour it."

Sirius shook his head and took Harry into the bathroom again, where he rinsed his neck and wrists off with water, then repaired the spray nozzle with magic.

"When are you going to remember your godfather is a wizard?" Sirius asked, grinning.

"That _was_ pretty dumb of me," Harry agreed sheepishly.

"Now, close your eyes and mouth," Sirius warned. Harry did and Sirius sprayed his neck and wrists with the cologne, so that this time the smell was much less conspicuous.

Harry and Sirius were getting terribly hungry as they waited for the females to get ready, so they went into the kitchen for a light snack (one that wouldn't ruin their appetite for the pizza later on). They finally decided on some corn chips. As they were eating, they heard the sound of the bathroom door slamming, and feminine giggling.

"Are you two ready yet?" Sirius called.

"No," Barbara said back. "But our hair and makeup are done, so now all we need to do is put our dresses and jewelry on."

Sirius and Harry both sighed as Barbara and Hermione hurried into Sirius and Barbara's bedroom. It seemed like twenty minutes later when Harry finally heard them emerging, and he and Sirius left the kitchen to find the drawing room. Both of the females looked incredible.

Barbara's hair was flat-ironed; it was now long, sleek and shining. She was wearing her gold Hufflepuff House necklace, a pair of diamond-encrusted, solid-gold hoop earrings (a gift from Sirius), and a gold bracelet. She was holding a white purse, which matched her outfit: It was a white maternity dress with quarter-length sleeves. There were patterns of black and gold on the white, including a black rose. Her shoes were also solid gold high heels. Her nails were painted classic red. Sure, she looked great…

But to Harry, Hermione was the truly amazing one.

Hermione's dress was a beautiful shade of violet. The sleeves were short and loose. She was wearing Sirius's pearl necklace and clip-on pearl earrings. She had dangly silver bracelets on both arms, and brilliantly white shoes. The most shocking thing of all, though, was her hair. It wasn't bushy and unmanageable like usual; it was still curly, but this time it was deliberate. Beautiful, perfectly-sculpted, chocolate-brown ringlets surrounded Hermione's face, cascading slightly past her shoulders, gleaming under the lights of the flat. The big curls were accessorized with a pearl headband, only the pearls were dyed purple (these ones were probably imitation). And suddenly Harry finally realized what Sirius meant about the "woman-magic". All that waiting was _definitely_ worth it!

"Hermione, you look amazing!" Harry cried, running up to her. "Your hair, it's all…all curly!"

"I know!" Hermione laughed. "It's unbelievable! With hair like mine, I _never_ thought it was possible!"

"Did you need a huge amount of hair potion?" Sirius asked curiously.

"Hell no," said Barbara. "It's called a curling iron."

"Will those boys ever understand Muggle things?" Hermione jokingly asked Barbara, grinning.

"I don't think they will!" Barbara laughed and took Sirius's arm in hers, heels clicking on the floor. Harry wondered how she did so when she was 27 weeks pregnant, but maybe it was because she was so used to wearing heels anyway, or because they were just her favorite type of shoes, which they were. Harry linked arms with Hermione the way Sirius did with Barbara.

"Let's go," said Sirius gallantly, leading everyone out the door. Hermione and Harry brought up the rear, arm in arm.

…

Reggie's Pizza Empire was PACKED. There was simply no other word to describe it. There was a big sign over the entrance which read, _Reggie's Pizza Empire_ — _Grand Opening Night_. This was the second Reggie's Pizza Empire in the entirety of Europe, and the eighth Reggie's Pizza Empire in the world, as six of them were back in Chicagoland.

"Padfoot!"

Harry, Hermione, Sirius and Barbara turned to look. Remus was running up to them. (He was looking good; the full moon night had been a couple of days ago, and now he would be feeling fine the next three weeks.)

"Good evening, Moony," said Sirius. "Are you ready to experience the pizza delight?"

"Always ready," Remus replied. "I might have to get one of those chocolate-chip cookie pizzas, too."

"You know, I don't know who likes sweet stuff more, Remus, you or Barbara," Sirius commented.

"I'm not the one who always wants the sweets," said Barbara mock-indignantly. "It's Phoebe. She's a little piglet."

"Uh-huh," said Sirius, putting his arm around Barbara.

They looked around for Regulus, but couldn't find him anywhere. Since he was their ticket in, they had to wait at the back of the line like all the "commoners". Everyone was dressed up, just like they were. Waiting wasn't really a problem, because it was warm out, not too hot and not too cold, and they had some time to talk. Besides, Harry just loved looking at his beautiful girlfriend, and he was wondering how lucky he was, to find a girl who was good-looking, nice, _and_ didn't have a skull full of dead insects.

Finally, _finally_ they got to the front of the line. There were two people working at the front desk, a man and a woman. The host raised his eyebrows.

"Name?" he asked.

"Uhh…we didn't make a reservation," Barbara told him.

"You won't get in without a reservation," the host replied. "Everyone eating here tonight had to make a reservation, like, a week in advance. At _least_."

"You don't understand," Sirius insisted. "Reggie is my long-lost brother, we're here as his guests."

" _Sure_ you're Reggie's long-lost brother," said the host disbelievingly, as if this was the most ludicrous thing he had ever heard. "Listen, mate, don't make me call security on you."

"It's true!" Sirius insisted. "You've got to hear me out!"

"Sorry," said the host, although he didn't look it. "Not until I hear it from the Emperor himself."

Just then, Regulus walked out of a side room, looking excited. His face brightened even further when he saw his guests, but his host spoke before he had a chance to say anything to them.

"Reggie," said the host. "I must inform you, this group of people is trying to leapfrog ahead of everybody else! _Nobody_ gets in without a reservation."

"It's okay, Sergio," said Regulus, beaming at him. "They don't need a reservation, they're with me."

Everyone laughed as Sergio's jaw practically dropped to the floor. It was clear not many people were on a first-name basis with the Emperor, and even fewer people were his long-lost brother. Sirius laughed the loudest.

…

They were seated at their table in no time. Regulus was wearing an expensive suit, just like Remus, Sirius and Harry were (Sirius had generously paid for Remus's). Over the table, Sirius fished the emerald cufflinks out of his pocket and handed them to Regulus.

"I've been meaning to give these to you," Sirius said. "They were supposed to go to you, remember?"

"Dad's cufflinks!" Regulus exclaimed. "Wow…"

"That reminds me," Sirius continued. "Where are you living now?"

"Well, where do you think?" said Regulus. "Our inherited house, right here in London."

"You're living _there?"_ Sirius asked in disbelief. "All alone in that big house? Don't you get lonely?"

"Just because I'm alone doesn't mean I'm lonely," said Regulus. "In fact, after coming home from another hectic day at work, I find the solitude quite relaxing."

"What's that like?" Sirius asked. "You know…to live off money you earned, not inherited?"

"Well, it's a lot of things," Regulus replied. "It can be a little stressful at times, or exhausting. I work really hard for it, like I said. But it can also be rewarding. Just knowing that all this money I have came from something I worked for, something I achieved on my own, instead of something that was just handed to me…well, that's a great feeling. In some ways, having to be a penniless No-Maj in America was one of the best things that ever happened to me. I saw my opportunity, I took it, and that's how I got to where I am today."

"Spoken like a true Slytherin," said Barbara.

"What?!" said Sirius, as if this was some sort of unforgiveable insult.

"Calm down," she said. "Not in a _bad_ way. Take it from me, I'm a Muggle, my opinion is objective, and I don't think all Slytherins are bad. I've heard they're supposed to be really good at seeing opportunities and taking them, and they're really ambitious and resourceful, more than any other House group. They also make the best team leaders in the workplace. If Regulus hadn't been a Slytherin, he might not have been able to succeed as well in America."

"Well, damn," said Sirius, looking shocked. "I mean...I always thought Slytherin was bad...but do you really think it helped Reg succeed?"

Harry remembered what the Sorting Hat had said at the beginning of last school year, about how Sirius had "his own reasons" for hating Slytherin.

"Maybe it's time you stopped hating Slytherin," Regulus told him, a smile on his face. "I don't hate Gryffindor, you know. I might have been able to succeed in America because I'm a Slytherin, but being brave like a Gryffindor, you were brave enough to rebel against what you didn't believe in. You were brave enough to fight the Dark Lord. You had such a strong sense of self, that's how you survived all those years in Azkaban. And look at everything you did for Harry. Houseism is just so stupid."

"So, you'd be friends with a Gryffindor," said Sirius. "Bet you wouldn't marry one."

"Hmm." Regulus turned up his nose. "If there's one thing I learned from being a No-Maj in America, it's that everyone is equal. So if there really is a right woman for me, and she was a Gryffindor…it won't be a deal-breaker. And I know you'd tease me to no end anyway, Sirius."

"Me? Tease you about your girlfriend?" Sirius grinned rather evilly. "No…I would _never_ do that!"

"Has Sirius matured at _all?"_ Regulus asked jokingly. "I don't think he has."

"Ah, I'll get you for that one, little brother," said Sirius, ruffling Regulus's hair affectionately.

"I think Siri can be very mature," said Barbara. "For example, I think he's going to be a great father. And growing a baby inside me would've been so hard, but he's always there for me when I need him."

"Well, hey," Sirius said cheerfully, putting his arm around her. "What kind of man would I be, if I couldn't take care of my pregnant wife?"

Suddenly, things fell dead silent. Sirius clapped his hands over his mouth in shock.

"Wh-What did you say?" Barbara whispered.

"I said…I said…" Sirius started fiddling with a lock of his hair. "I just said the words, 'What kind of man would I be?' Then I just…stopped talking."

"No, you said I was your pregnant wife," said Barbara. "I'm your _girlfriend_."

"I-I know, it just…it just slipped out," Sirius said. "I'm sorry, darling, I…Barbara, dear?"

"Look, relax, you lot, don't startle him," said Remus, putting his hand on his old friend's shoulder. "We don't want him having another heart attack. Just calm down, Padfoot, okay? Let's ask Barbara what she thinks."

Harry was glad Remus spoke up, because Sirius was looking more than a little pale again. Hermione and Harry exchanged glances of excitement and surprise.

"I-I think…" Barbara smiled, and tears were sparkling in her hazel eyes. "I think that was the best proposal ever!"

"Better than anything on TV, right, Hermione?" said Harry, winking.

"But…but I don't have a ring on me!" Sirius insisted.

Barbara laughed through her tears and, to Harry's surprise, carefully took one of her gold hoop earrings out of her earlobe. She handed it to Sirius.

"Here," she said. "Now you do."

"Everyone," said Regulus, standing up. "My brother here has an important announcement to make."

All heads swiveled in the direction of the Emperor, and then to Sirius, who was now kneeling on one knee, looking nervous, probably because (unlike most men) he hadn't actually been planning this.

"Barbara Catherine Raffelovich," he said, holding out the gold hoop earring, "will you marry me?"

"Yes, of course!"

All the other pizza-goers cheered. Barbara was crying now as Sirius slipped the earring onto her finger, and she tilted it upwards so it wouldn't fall off. She couldn't really stand up on her own very well, as she had just begun her third trimester of pregnancy, but when Sirius stood up, he helped her up, too, and kissed her right on the lips.

"We'll get married this summer," he declared, "and Reggie here shall be my best man."

Harry wondered if Remus would be angry he had been skipped over, but he didn't seem to be, not if the enormous smile on his tired face was any indication.

"HOORAY!" everyone in the house shouted, and then, to Harry's surprise, they started singing the Bridal March.

"BUM-BA-BA-DUM! BUM- _BA_ -BA-DUM! BUM-BA-BA-DUM-BA-BA-DUM-BA-BA-DUM…"

Barbara was blushing and crying at the same time. Sirius had his arms around her. Harry was watching happily, just like Remus and Regulus, until he heard Hermione sniffing next to him.

"Hermione!" he exclaimed, noticing she was crying a little, too. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she told him, wiping her eyes. "I just love happy endings."

"This isn't the ending, Hermione," Sirius said warmly, as Barbara lovingly leaned her head on his shoulder. "It's only the beginning."

 **-the end-**

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thank you to everyone who enjoyed and reviewed this story! It's been a wonderful creative journey! Without you, this story would still be a one-shot, metaphorically gathering dust in the archives. So, once again, THANK YOU ALL! If you want to read the sequel,** _ **Harry Potter and the Dogfather II: Chamber of Secrets**_ **, it's here at this link:**

 **s/12829814/1/Harry-Potter-and-the-Dogfather-II-Chamber-of-Secrets**


End file.
